


Intermediate Parenting Theories & Practices

by INTPSlytherin_reylove97



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, College, Community season 1, Dad Jeff Winger, Dysfunctional Family, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Issues, Female Friendship, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Jeff Winger Has Issues, Learning How to Be Better People is Hard For These Character TBH, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Some Implied Romance But Not Until Way Later, Study Group, but we already knew that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPSlytherin_reylove97/pseuds/INTPSlytherin_reylove97
Summary: “Community college?” she uttered, her eyebrows shooting up into her hair line. “Don’t you realize we can be classmates next year—”“You are not going to this hell hole,” Jeff was quick to assure his daughter. “And you shouldn’t even be here anyway!”“Like you’re one to talk!”~*~The “what if Jeff had a teenage daughter” fic no one asked for.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger, Jeff Winger & the Study Group, Original Female Character & Everyone, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Britta Perry, Troy Barnes/Original Character(s)
Comments: 145
Kudos: 170





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I always told myself I would never write a Community fic but I am on sixth quarantine binge of it and this thought came to mind "What if Jeff had a teenager and she was the product of his younger years and how would that change some things?" So I wrote this.
> 
> Timeline wise it falls in Season 1 between Environmental Science (1.10) and Politics of Human Sexuality (1.11)
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy.

* * *

“ _I cannot believe you_!”

Jeff knew how to handle this. He handled a simple tantrum plenty of times before.

One memorable incident came to mind, a three year old, kicking and screaming in _Safeway_ ; also know as The _Safeway_ Incident.

She wanted the obnoxious, bright pink champagne cake on display in the bakery section. He had little intention of giving his already rambunctious toddler any more sugar, let alone a cake where it was questionable on whether or not the alcohol content baked out.

His tiny ballerina (because yeah, he enrolled her in ballet classes because all the other guys at the firm had their kids in extra curriculars and while he was still a paralegal, he was ready to play the part of hotshot lawyer until he got that promotion) had climbed right out of the cart and made her way to the cake, stomping and shouting. Pointing and screaming. Making an outrageous scene that definitely put him in the ‘worst parent of the year’ category, at least in the eyes of their local grocery store.

He tried to talk to her like an adult because that was sort of how he always reasoned with her when she got out of hand; make his kid feel a little dumb and she’d get embarrassed then apologize for her antics. It worked nine times out of ten.

Except the incident at Safeway happened to be the one time his normal tactics wouldn’t work.

Instead little Cassandra Isobel Winger, tutu and all, smashed down the cake she so desired and smeared the sugar-high inducing frosting across the linoleum floor.

Her reason? If _she_ couldn’t have the cake then _no one_ could have the cake.

When he tried to coax her to stop, she flung cake in his face. She kicked and screamed as he struggled to pick up his frosting covered child with some dignity. There were stares and his suit was ruined.

Needless to say, the Wingers were banned from the local _Safeway_.

It was a scene to remember; one ingrained in his memory and filed as ‘Remember, your offspring can be a terror when she wants to be. Tread carefully.’

Much like the one his _now_ teenage daughter was making in the middle of the quad at Greendale’s Open House Harvest Festival Extravaganza.

Across from each other, three paces away, the two remained at a standoff. They were the last two standing at the cake walk—which involved actually walking on and smashing cakes as well as a pie in face for the losers—eyes narrowed in identical, stubborn stares.

A pink champagne cake sat on the table adjacent to them. All too mocking. All too familiar.

“Community college?” she uttered, her eyebrows shooting up into her hair line. “Don’t you realize we can be classmates next year—”

“You are not going to this hell hole,” Jeff was quick to assure his daughter, daring her to say otherwise. Aghast gasps echoed from the forming crowd. “Come on! Like you all don’t know what this place is!“ Murmurs of agreement and disagreement sounded off in the crowd. Jeff shook his head, turning away from his classmates in favor of addressing his daughter. “And you shouldn’t even be here anyway!”

“Like you’re one to talk!” Her eyes darted around the growing crowd, the attention somehow fueling her despite the flush embarrassment evident on her face. His daughter was out for revenge and he knew it. “You lied to me! You lied to everyone!” Cassie continued to shout, garnering the full attention of the nosy, gossip hungry Greendale students. “Does Nana know?”

Oh no. There was no way he’d be able to dig himself out of this one. “Cassie—”

“She doesn’t know!” She near screeched, panic flaring in her eyes. “So what? You were going to keep on lying until you got caught—”

“No,” Jeff tried to amend, even though that was exactly what he was planning on doing. “I was going to tell you, Cassie. I just didn’t know the right time—”

She scoffed, not believing him for a second. “Maybe when you lost your job? Or when we moved?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Jeff shrugged helplessly, feeling the eyes of his study group land on him, the six all too well-meaning but chaos prone individuals listening with rapt attention.

This was not how he imagined the group finding out about Cassie. In fact, he tried to not think of those two worlds colliding, keeping them as far apart as possible. Greendale-Life stayed at Greendale, and Home-Life stayed at home. He kept his conversations about his life light, short, and on a need to know basis. Hell, he even kept his little meetings with Slater at Greendale or at her place, never once suggesting _Casa de Winger._

But standing in the middle of the quad, covered in frosting and crumbled cake, his daughter yelling at him…this was not what he wanted. Not in the slightest.

“But I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d get upset and my job is make sure you are okay, all the time. It’s my job to worry, not yours.”

His daughter glowered.

That was the thing with having a mature, stubborn, independent child who maybe parented the parent more than the parent parented them—

The lines got blurred over who was in charge. Like right now.

“Cassie, I’m the parent, I hash out the scolding. Which I will do right now—Cassandra Winger, wipe the frosting off your shoes and go to the car! We are going home.” Better to leave before more questions were asked and more tweets were tweeted. “And you’re grounded,” he added for good measure. That’s what decent parents did right? Discipline their children? Put the fear of God in them?

Her jaw dropped. “You’ve never grounded me!”

Damn, she was right. “Well, now I am realizing maybe I should have.”

Pink champagne cake collided with his face.

Yes. This was exactly like the _Safeway_ incident.

* * *

**THREE MONTHS EARLIER…**

When Jeff Winger imagined this day, he hadn’t thought of it as a cacophony of emotional upheaval like most parents did on their child’s first last day of school.

He imagined he’d already be in the office, working on a case while Cassie drove herself to school because she wanted to get there early to find all her classes and maybe catch up with friends. It would be just another day in the life of the Winger family, the kid living her own life while he lived his.

Of course life had other plans. Such as being disbarred, losing his job as a lawyer, and moving out of the condo and into an two bedroom apartment outside of the city under the guise of being closer to Nana Doreen and his ‘new law firm’ without his all-too-smart-for-her-own-good teenage daughter discovering how much deep shit he actually happened to be in.

There was also the fact the move now put them in a new school district and Cassie had the unfortunate opportunity to be the ‘new kid’ her senior year of high school.

So maybe he was more emotional because of all the other factors in his life and not so much his kid was taking another step towards adulthood and into the world known as ‘As Far Away From Dad As Possible’ –even though she never gave a single indication that she hated her life, hated him, or hated anything about getting stuck with him as a parent—and he didn’t like the idea one bit.

Because it turns out when you lose all the things you thought that mattered in life (like a bidet in the master bathroom or nightly outings of entertaining clients at the nicest restaurants in the city), your kid turns out to be the best thing you ever had.

At least, that was one thing Jeff realized when he attempted to keep his cool as he continued to build up his tower of lies to hide the unbearable truth from his daughter.

“Got your lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Your textbooks?”

The seventeen year old in the passenger seat huffed. He’d never been this concerned or diligent about Cassie’s preparedness for school in the past. She always been an independent spirit; hell, she started making breakfast for the both of them by the age of eight because she just ‘felt like it and saw it on The Food Network’.

“Yes. I have double checked everything at least twice.” She unbuckled her seat belt, sending Jeff a meaningful look. “Dad, it’s senior year, I think I know what I need for the first day of class.”

“Right, right,” Jeff nodded, attempting to relax back in his seat.

Cassie knew what she was doing. She always did. He should have faith in her at this point, but to be completely honest he was wondering when the Winger gene in her would kick in and he’d have to start to worry if she was keeping anything from him. Lord know what he kept from his mother when he was her age. But then again, he and Cassie were not like him and his mother; they’d always been open and honest with each other. He learned quick to be his daughter’s friend rather than overlording controller if he wanted to know anything about her life.

“You got this. But if you don’t, call me and I’ll pull you out in a heartbeat.”

Cassie rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Her dark, wavy hair bounced along in agreement. Once upon a time he’d be the one to make sure all her wavy strands and curly-qs were tied back and away from her face on the first day of school—the teachers should have a chance to know her face before her hair became a mess and flopped in her face for half the day. “Dad, I’ll be fine. This isn’t like preschool when I needed you to hold my hand throughout the day. I’m a big kid now.” The sarcasm in her voice was not lost.

“Okay.” Jeff sighed, unlocking the Lexus. “Okay. I get it. Get out. Have fun,” he muttered, a cynical quip laced in the words words. “Remember Nana is picking you up and you are hanging out with her until I get off work.”

His teenager so much as gave a half smile before ducking out of the car and into the sea of roaming students of Riverside High.

There was nothing to worry about. Cassie could handle herself. After all, it was the first day of school—for both of them, even if she didn’t know it.

The first day could not be _that_ terrible.

* * *

The first day went about as bad as it could be and Jeff didn’t even get a date out of it.

Instead he got a _study group_ , or a ‘community’ as he so cleverly declared to the group when they were eating out of the palm of his hand.

A study group that wasn’t too terrible but terrible enough to warrant a grimace at the mere thought.

Sure, they were somewhat nice. They did study with him after he may have been a bit of a creep and set up the entire ‘study group’ thing as a tactic to get Blonde Britta under his arm and caused more trouble and distraught amongst the rag-tag group than deemed necessary.

But hey, at least he _probably_ wouldn’t flunk his Spanish quiz.

That was a big probably, but one he was betting on. Some of the members had their heads screwed on right despite their little tantrums and distress claiming otherwise.

“Why do you look like you ate bad chili?” Cassie announced as she climbed into the car, tossing her backpack on the floor.

“No reason.” Jeff grunted, forcing the expression away and attempted a vague neutral frown. As soon as she buckled up, he pulled away from the curb and began to make his way out his childhood suburbia. “How was your first day?”

“Terrible.” Cassie’s head thumped against the window, an aggravated sigh rattling through her. “Riverside is full of idiots and overachievers. I like succeeding as much as anyone else, but the kids’ there take it to a whole other level. And then they don’t even have a decent arts program so…” She pursed her lips, sparing him a dejected glance, “I don’t get why we had to move. I liked my old school. Nobody bothered me there—I swear I was assigned like three ‘Riverside buddies’ to show me around.” She sat up straighter, contemplating their bothersome and sudden move. “And Nana seems fine. She still does her jazzercise in the living room.”

Jeff’s nose wrinkled. “The Jane Fonda one?”

“Yup.”

“Sorry you had to go through that, kid.”

“Consider it one for the team,” Cassie offered, “and in return maybe you’ll let me borrow the car—”

“Nope, you are not driving the Lexus. License or not. You are not touching this mean machine, James Dean.”

“Or maybe just let me use my summer credits and graduate early?” she offered instead, nonplused by the Lexus refusal, the question and his reaction expected. This would not be the first time nor last time she asked to drive the Lexus, and Jeff’s answer would always be the same—‘no.’ However she hadn’t pushed to drive the Lexus in months; his daughter was aiming for something higher. She was shooting towards freedom from the clutches of government mandated education. “When I was completing my registration this morning, my counselor mentioned I technically have enough credits to graduate a semester early. I can be done with high school by December.”

She’d be done with school by _December_? As much as he believed her, he didn’t know how to process that news.

“Why would you graduate a semester early? If you did that you’d miss all the end of the school year stuff—like—like—” God, what did anyone even do in high school? All he remembered was a whole lot of sitting in boring lectures and hogging the ping-pong table in the rec room during lunch. Not much else. “Like…Prom? You’d miss Prom!” Yeah, he remembered prom—

_Ditched by a his date halfway through the dance for some computer geek. Getting pant-sed on the dance floor by the hocky team jock heads. Having to walk home and pretend like he had the time of his life when he saw his mom, who waited up for him to hear all about the fun he undoubtedly had._

Yeah, he remembered Prom.

“I don’t care about dances,” Cassie countered breezily, unbothered by the prospect of missing out on the cliché teen experiences. “Lame music is played, people dress in absurdly expensive dresses they’ll only wear once, and all the couples are obnoxious.” Cassie shrugged. “Honestly, I am missing out on nothing.”

“What would you even do?” Jeff asked, still not entirely convinced by the idea.

“I don’t know. Get a part time job so I can get some real world experience?” Ha! Her uncertainty was almost transparent; Cassie didn’t know what she was going to do, or what her next step would be. All the more reason for her to just finish up high school on the same timeline as the rest of her peers—it’d give her more time to think about her future, even if it was while wallowing through classes with a bunch of people she silently hated.

On their way back to their new apartment, they passed by the empty Greendale Community College parking lot.

Cassie perked up, eyes wide. “I could go to community college! Get my general education out of the way and transfer to a larger university.”

“No.” Jeff shook his head, already seeing the dots connecting in his daughter’s mind. “You are not going to Greendale—”

“Come on!” Cassie scoffed. “It’s not like I am going to graduate early to just enroll in a high stakes university that’ll only put _you_ in more debt.” How nice of her to remind him of that little fact. “With community college I can actually coast by, get the mandatory, boring classes done, consider my options for the future. Maybe have fun for once? I’d have time on my hands and not be like other people my age who are freaking out about college.” Hearing her talk like that reminded him far too much of his own reasons for attending Greendale—an easy out, a decent purgatory to buy time until something better came along.

All the more reason for her not to go.

He’d seen the kids there around her age, Troy and Annie the first to come to mind. Ironically both attended Riverside, Jeff seeing first hand the ‘idiot’ and the ‘overachiever’ in his daughter’s _oh so_ detailed spectrum of students, both of which had unfortunate demises to their high school careers.

Would he be fine if Cassie became like them? If Cassie became like _him_?

“You are not going to Greendale.”

“Just because it is a community college?” Cassie shot back, eyebrow raised in an all too knowing stare. “Not all of us can get into Columbia, Dad.”

A winced wanted to nudge it’s way out of him, but Jeff hampered the urge down before Cassie could notice.

“I uh—I know that. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t smart and can’t get into a state school? Or anywhere else other than Greendale?”

“Why are you so against Greendale?”

“No reason.” Jeff was maybe too quick to defend, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Just want to remind you that you have options. Choices. You are young. The world is your oyster and all those encouraging metaphors and bullshit.”

Her glare of annoyance melted into a disinterested stare, eyes slating back to the dark streets outside the window. She wasn’t happy, but she’d adjust and morph into what she needed to be to survive. After all, that’s what Winger’s did.

“How was your first day?” she asked quietly. “As bad as mine?”

“It was…” How did he word this? He could talk circles in court—well really he could talk circles around anyone with the ability to hear and comprehend—but the moment he was put up against his daughter, his wordsmith skills fell apart. She knew him too well to catch a lie, and she was well attuned to emotions even if she acted like she wasn’t. “It was fine. Got acquainted with some of the people around the office. Nothing major to report,” he added with a small smile.

“Glad it was better than mine. At least one of us is getting a good turn out from this move,” she muttered, slumping further into the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Jeff sighed out, feeling an odd niggle of regret in his chest. “At least one of us is.”

* * *

**OPEN HOUSE HARVEST EXTRAVAGANZA**

“Should we stop them?” Troy asked Annie and Britta, the two women at the head of their little huddle. The rest of the group gathered at the edge of the cake walk set up, too afraid to inch any closer.

Less than five feet away, Jeff struggled to catch his daughter on the cake walk, the two slipping and falling into the smashed cake spread across the grass. The girl, Cassie, continued to throw handfuls of cake at Jeff, only fueling the man’s frustrations.

Everyone was watching the pathetic chaos, yet no one made a move to actually stop the father and daughter.

Not that Jeff and his daughter were entertaining. They weren’t. More like a slight gender-bent, less charming rendition of _Gilmore Girls_. No one liked a parent who acted like a child despite what those ratings suggested.

“I didn’t even know Jeff had a kid,” Pierce declared, squinting at Jeff and Cassie as once again she ran and slipped out of his reach. “And one old enough to look like _that_.”

The group groaned in disgust.

“What?” Pierce muttered. “Just telling it like it is.”

Another groan of disgust waved through the group.

“Did anyone know about her?” Britta asked, nose scrunching as Cassie slammed hard against the ground. Britta like to pride herself on knowing people maybe it was the little wannabe therapist in her coming out, but still, she thought she figured Jeff out down pat— _Narcissistic liar who hid behind selfish charm and daddy issues_.

This sudden appearance of a daughter added a whole new laundry list of neuroses she needed to dig into.

“Cassie, are you okay?” Jeff angry pretenses dropped, overshadowed by his concern for his daughter. At the sight of his movement, she began to wiggle away on the frosting covered grass. “ _Really_ , Cassandra?”

“Get away from me!” she ordered, attempting to roll away. A task that proved to be futile as the frosting became more sticky than smooth and smothering. “I don’t want to talk to you, you liar!”

“Oh sweetie, you shouldn’t talk to your father that way,” Shirley could not help but chime in quietly.

Both Winger’s head snapped towards their direction. “ _Stay out of this!”_ both cried out, before resuming their pathetic slip-and-slide chase.

“Yup, definitely Jeff’s kid,” Troy hummed, arms crossed over his chest. “I wonder what else they have in common.” His eyes widened. “Do you think she has the ability to give a Winger speech? Is that genetic? I don’t know if I can handle two Wingers giving speeches like that.”

“They both have the emotional maturity of a toddler,” Britta muttered. “That’s one thing to put down in the ‘What do Jeff and his secret daughter have in common?’”

“I knew.”

All eyes landed on Abed.

He sipped his lemonade, watching Jeff and Cassie with dull interest.

“How?” Annie asked, brows furrowed. “Jeff never let it slip. He never mentioned her at any meeting. I think we all would have remembered that little detail. I didn’t even see her number in his phone.”

All eyes snapped to her.

Annie shrugged nonchalantly, a flush of guilt trickling up through her back. “He left his phone in the study room the other day and I needed to make sure he was actually getting the meeting reminders I set up on his phone or if he disabled them!”

“And you just happened to stumble on Jeff’s contacts?” Shirley raised an eyebrow, hugging her handbag closer to her chest. As though Annie was going to snatch her phone the moment she saw the opportunity.

“It was an accident!” Annie scoffed, jaw dropping at the disapproving and stunned stares of her peers. “It really was!”

“Somehow I don’t believe that,” Britta challenged. “An invasion of privacy is still an invasion of privacy.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Jeff was always late for our morning meetings,” Abed announced, capturing the attention of the group before an unnecessary ramble-like lecture on privacy from Britta could commence. “He was late because he was dropping off his daughter at school.”

The group hummed, nodding, considering the thought.

“He never stayed too late for our afternoon study sessions, always leaving before eight. He claimed it was because he had dinner plans. We, naturally assumed it was a date because of his track record, when in actuality he had dinner plans with his daughter. Based off of his habits, he hasn’t missed a single dinner with her since the first day of the semester. The day we became a study group.”

“I can see how that can be the case,” Shirley mumbled.

“But those are all assumptions,” Annie reasoned. “All on a theory with little supporting evidence.”

“But is it really?” Abed asked, the question rhetorical. Alas Pierce did not realize this, about ready to state his opinion, only to be silenced as Abed continued his train of thought. “No, it’s not a theory. The signs were there, we just chose to ignore them because of how unlikely it’d be for our main character to have a secret child. He is the charming slacker, not the off-beat, down on his luck, parent.” He turned to the group, eyes leveling above their heads as he dove deeper into his process. “In theory that would be Shirley, but I feel like we might go a different route with this. Maybe more woman commanding her own life rather than the traditional parent arc-type and storylines.”

Shirley smiled brightly at the prospect. A woman commanding her own life sounded like exactly what she wanted. “Oh that’s nice.”

“Ow!” Jeff yelped, attempting to stop Cassie’s kicking legs. She was still on the ground, kicking her legs up and out, keeping Jeff a good few feet away. That is until he had enough and got jabbed in the stomach. “Stop this! Stop this now! Cassie, you are acting like the Safeway Incident!”

“The Safeway Incident is a lie!” she cried out. “You just didn’t want to get the cake because you knew you’d eat it and you hate carbs!”

“Yet you were the one who got us banned!”

“I’m your child and I was three, so by default it is still your fault!”

Jeff huffed, taking a step back from her. He lifted his hands up in forfeit, exhausted. “Fine, Cassie! You win. You get to throw your tantrum, you already made a mess…” He scrubbed his face, the lemon meringue she last threw at him smeared into his hair. “I don’t know what more you want!”

Upon realizing she was still kicking air, Cassie froze.

Slowly she sat up, looking small and defeated. Her hair stuck up in odd angles, the frosting an impromptu, unwanted hair gel. “I just want the truth, Dad. No more lies.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping. “That’s…that’s asking for a lot, kiddo. I don’t know if you want that.”

“Try me.”

Glancing back at the group, watching with baited breath, Jeff knew he could not keep his two worlds apart any longer.


	2. Introduction Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: I have the relationship tags marked because the story *could* go that way with the implied romances (I am still debating on how I would go about it, but the inherent conflicts will be addressed.) I am just marking it so no one is shook, shocked, or upheaved if either of the ships mentioned in the tags happen. 
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy :)

**OPEN HOUSE HARVEST EXTRAVAGANZA~ Quad Bench**

“How about we start with each stating how we feel?” Ian Duncan stood before the father and daughter, giving a small, if not weak smile. Duncan must have thought he was trying to be welcoming…but it just came off as constipated.

“Can you speak up a bit louder?” Abed asked, kettle corn in hand. Beside him Troy ate the sweet treat by the handfuls while Abed at one piece at a time. “The afternoon wind is picking up, so it’s distorting sound.”

Murmurs of agreement rumbled through the group.

Less than a few feet away, the study group stood watching, far too invested to leave the Winger Family Drama alone all together. This wasn’t something that could be retold in between classes or in the group email chain. They had to live and breathe it to know this day wasn’t some off-band fever dream.

Duncan frowned. “Normally we’d be conducting an emergency session in my office, but seeing as…” He eyed the frosting covered duo sitting on the bench, sitting on opposite ends. “…as both of you are just a tad physically compromised, and I don’t want to clean my office any more than it needs to be… so here we are.” He motioned to the empty quad, torn streamers frilling through the air. “Who would like to go first?”

Both Wingers glanced at each other, neither too keen on opening up about their feelings to the general public; the general public being Jeff’s study group, a curious Dean Pelton peaking from the bushes, and semi-drunk psychology professor who’d been called when the father and daughter’s altercation finally caught said dean’s attention.

Jeff wanted to talk to her, explain his reasons for lying about his degree, but the Dean had come bustling along with Duncan in tow before anything more could be exchanged.

“The sharing your feelings part wasn’t a suggestion,” Duncan said, once again reminding them they had an audience.

Jeff cleared his throat. “I would—”

“I feel like my life is a lie.” Cassie’s cool stare, caused a small shiver through the crowd. Damn, she wasn’t holding back, was she?

“Okay then!” Duncan clapped his hands, a nervous yet excitable chuckle quivering out of him. “That’s one way to jump into it.”

“You’re life has not been a lie, Cassie.” Jeff didn’t understand why she’d claim a bold statement when in all actuality there was only one aspect about her life that was a lie—his degree. “I have never lied to you.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe—”

“But it’s the truth—”

“What about Santa Clause?” She grappled for a low blow and she took it; honestly Jeff expect better. “You lied about him!”

“Every parent lies about Santa Clause, Cassie! It’s _Santa_!” Jeff’s hands clenched near his head, refraining from pulling his hair out.

“Still a lie!”

“Okay, let’s go back to more feelings and less accusations,” Duncan chimed in, before leaning back towards the study group, a poorly smothered grin budging from the corners of his mouth. “Is one of you taking notes on this? I can absolutely use this for some my side psychology work.”

“Fine!” Jeff knew he was going to lose this battle on the grounds of his past and serial lying, but if anyone could turn this situation around, he could. “Yes, Cassie, I _lied_. I lied about a lot of things. I lied about Santa. _I_ bought all those gifts, not some jolly old fool and I didn’t even eat the cookies. I threw them out because you are a terrible baker.”

A soft wince came from Shirley, a look of pity sent towards Cassie—one which the teenager ignored, in favor to remain stone faced. Typical.

However Jeff wasn’t done; oh no, he was just getting started. “I lied about your kitten going back to the shelter because he missed his friends—I accidently let him out and I couldn’t find him!”

A gasp of indignation came from Britta, she horrified by the confession and the thought a kitten was just… _gone_ and released into the wild with little thought.

“And I lied about the roller-rink closing down,” Jeff leaned forward, meeting Cassie dead in the eye, “I lied because I didn’t want to go there for your twelfth birthday.”

Another gasp of horror sounded, this time Troy, clutching his chest as he near withered to the ground. “Not the roller-rink!”

“Yup,” Jeff popped the word, claiming each lie for the soul crushing truth his daughter so desired. “I lie about a lot of things, Cassie. It’s what parents do, so yeah,” he gave a listless shrug, “I lied, but I lied for your betterment.”

Face scrunching up, the girl attempted to piece together what exactly her father was arguing. “For my ‘betterment’?” she echoed.

“Exactly,” he nodded, nonchalant, “who paid for your dance lessons, and then subsequent art lessons all those years?”

“You,” she uttered, eyes narrowing as his incoming argumentative conclusion finally donned on her.

“Who paid for your new phone, and gets you a new one after you break it, and pays your phone bill every month?”

“You,” she repeated, lower than before, shoulders slumping in.

“And who is going to pay for your college education that is _not_ going to be Greendale?”

He waited, using all his willpower to hold back a smirk as he made way to stick the landing.

“You,” she gritted. “I get it. You don’t have to—”

“I have paid for all the things you wanted by having a high paying job I could only get if I lied about my degree. So in a way, yes Cassie, my lie was for your betterment.”

On the opposite end of the bench, Cassie had sunk into herself, a picture of defeat. However her set jaw and challenging eyes told a different story.

“I get it. Your lie about your degree gave us a nice life, but look at us now?” She waved around them. “We are sitting in low rate community college, arguing in front of…” She turned to the study group, eyes wide and baffled, “who _are_ you people!”

“I’m Troy,” the boy announced, then nudged his friend beside him, “this is Abed and the old guy is Pierce—”

“It was a rhetorical question made for emphasis,” Cassie corrected before any more introductions could be made.

Troy deflated at the shutdown, Shirley patting his shoulder, offering some comfort. 

“My point,” Cassie faced Jeff once more, sitting taller than she had moments ago, “is I understand the first lie. You buried yourself deep in the lie and shit would eventually hit the fan, so better no one knew, least of all an impressionable child.” She gave a hapless shrug, similar to the one her father gestured not so long ago. “But why the second lie?”

“Second lie?” Jeff questioned, not understanding why or how these particular lies were numbered. “What second lie?”

“Why did you lie to me about Greendale?”

* * *

**A FEW WEEKS EARLIER…**

Abed’s documentary still stirred in Jeff’s mind.

How he was cast as the disappointed and angry father. One who didn’t know how to understand his child. In the end, he understood what Abed was trying to convey to his own father; the pain he experienced in the divorce that maybe had never vocalized, in his own way, until that day.

He just didn’t like to think maybe his own kid kept her real opinions on the what felt like a century old split from her mom to herself. Or that his kid kept anything emotionally major to herself.

He liked to believed he knew Cassie well. Afterall, they always had each other; Jeff and his kid against the world.

Except now he felt like he was keeping a world’s distance away from her and it was all his own doing.

“Hey, someone from Greendale sent you a newsletter?” Cassie announced dropping the mail on the dinning table. She had went to pick up the mail from the their box in the lobby, she sifting through for the bills and notices.

Jeff was quick to close his laptop so she wouldn’t see it open to the Theory of Sleep paper he was cobbling together. A slight blow-off class, but one where he still needed to chart his sleeping habits and write a summary in response.

“Hmm? That’s weird.” He reached for the newsletter, plucking it out of the stack. Playing it cool, he gave a half shrug. “Maybe it belongs to someone else on the floor?”

Frown deepening, Cassie leaned over and tapped the address line. “It literally has your name printed and our address.”

“Weird,” he repeated, hoping his voice didn’t betray him. He kept his disinterest. “Probably a community thing, sending it to everyone within the zip code.”

Cassie gave curious hum…then _ripped_ _open_ the newsletter.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“You said it’s a community thing!” Cassie argued, shuffling back when he tried to reach for newsletter once more. “I’m technically part of the community.”

Jeff held his breath as her eyes scanned the page. A few of the words reflected off her reading glasses— _Greendale_ ….. _activities_ … _extravaganza_ … _.invites Jeffery Winger or resident—_

This was it. This was the end.

He had to come clean and tell her the truth. He thought he’d be able to at least get through one semester. Just one so he could really say he was doing the college thing and was working towards getting a legitimate degree even though it came from a low-bar accredited institution.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the talk. “Cassie, look I’ve been meaning to tell you—”

“Oh, it’s just a list of events open to the public happening on campus,” she announced.

A sharp exhale escaped Jeff. “Really?”

“Yup.” She waved the copy paper back at him. Skimming the page, she began to make her way to the refrigerator. With a monochrome black magnet, she stuck the newsletter up, as though she was genuinely interested in the happenings of Greendale. “Oo! Greendale is having an Open House Harvest Extravaganza in a few weeks, open to students, prospective students, and their families.” She plopped down in the seat opposite him, reaching for her stack of textbooks. “We should go.”

“No.”

“Come on,” Cassie pleaded a little, “it’s only a couple of blocks away and maybe if you see Greendale, you’ll warm up to it.”

“I’ve already got a good idea of what Greendale is like,” Jeff told her point blank, not in the mood for an argument.

A small mutter of annoyance came from Cassie, but she didn’t press the matter. Instead she cracked open her textbook and notes, and began to study the three branches of government.

He didn’t understand where she got that from. The will and drive to do well in school. Even at thirty-six he was dragging his feet to complete assignments while she just sat there and got them done like it was no problem.

Maybe it was the young brain and how it absorbed information, but hell, he could not remember being like that when he was her age. He remembered thinking he could just live life and maybe become a reality TV star if he seemed cool-but-not-too-cool enough. He was smart, smart enough to pick up basic skills and talk his way out of situations, but never really had to work hard for anything in his life in regards to his career or education.

Clearly that was the tragic downfall of his situation.

“Hey Cas,” he treaded lightly, hands still resting on his closed laptop.

“Hm?” She didn’t lift her eyes from her notes, but seemed to be paying attention to him.

“Do you think I’m an okay dad?”

Her face scrunched, befuddled by the question. “What?” Blinking, she gave a half shrug, apparently never really considering the thought. “Yeah? I don’t know. No complaints here,” she settled on. Eyebrows furrowed, she turned to him, head cocked to the side. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason.”

“Really? Because no parent just randomly asks their kid if they are a ‘good parent’ without some reason.”

“And you know this from all the parents you talk to on a daily basis?” he deadpanned.

Rolling her eyes, she dropped her pen on her notebook. “No. But still—why the sudden existential parental crisis?”

“I just…saw a documentary. After work. And…” he drawled out, hoping the scene he was setting didn’t sound too fake and made-up, “And it was about parents not really understanding their kids and divorce—”

“Dad,” Cassie interjected before he could get any further, “you’re doing fine. I can assure you I am not secretly scarred or repressed due to being raised by you and solely you, and without my mom in the picture.” When she stated it plain and sarcastic like that, it made his fears—deep rooted and hidden fears—feel all the more real. She stood up and gathered her belongs. “If you’ll excuse me I’m going to my room to study. This has become just a tad too close to uncertain emotional territory for me for a Wednesday night and I have a test tomorrow.”

With that, she left, more focused on her own dilemmas than his.

* * *

**OPEN HOUSE HARVEST EXTRAVAGANZA~ Quad Bench**

“You know what, that’s a good question. I—”

He never finished his thought.

Instead, Jeff stood up and dashed out of the quad.

Up and gone, without another word.

Which left Cassie alone on the bench, a group of weirdos her dad briefly referred to as ‘the study group’ staring at her, and Duncan sighing wearily in his wake.

“Classic Winger, running away from taking responsibility and becoming a decent human being,” Duncan mused. His eyes then landed on Cassie, cringing. “Sorry. I know he’s your old man but…oof.” He shook his head. Glancing down at his watch, he tsked. “Well, it is dinner time and I got a date—”

“No you don’t,” Britta called out.

“It was an excuse to get out of this awkward situation,” he shot back, flustered. He gave the girl a tight smile. “Well, then, while this has been riveting, I’m off.”

As Duncan took his leave, the Dean followed hot on his heels and piggy backing on his exit. Cassie gave a half-hearted wave to their retreating backs looking like a pathetic—but not surprised—mess.

Unsure of what to do, Britta hunched closer to the group, miming a huddle. The group followed, “What do we do now?” she whispered. “We can’t just…just leave her?” She then considered the option—the girl was Winger’s kid, and had far too similar temperament to him. This kid also came with her own problems beyond her unfortunate genetics. “I mean, _can we_?”

“Of course not!” Annie gapped.

“How can you suggested such a thing?” Shirley scolded, already making her way over to Cassie. She sat down beside the girl, ready to be a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. “Oh, don’t worry sweetie. I’m sure everything will work out.”

Cassie didn’t turn to Shirley with open arms, remaining rooted in her spot and her eyes glued to the weeds protruding from between the cracks of the cement walkway.

“Yeah,” Pierce chimed in, wanting to be part of the conversation. “Dads do the wrong thing all the time. I should know, I have over twenty-three step children.” He chuckled. “This isn’t the first time a dad has left a kid deserted and it won’t be the last. I’ve done it at least ten times.”

Winces sounded from the group; leave it to Pierce to take a situation from ‘bad’ to ‘slightly worse’.

“I accidently left my mom’s dog at a dog park once,” Troy told Cassie, her eyes finally lifting from her stone-still, tired gaze to look at him. “I know it is not the same thing, but I went back for her once I realized my mistake.”

Upon realizing the group was doing their best to ease the odd situation, Britta inched forward towards Cassie, arms opening and dropping a few times. Comforting wasn’t exactly her forte, and she wasn’t sure a hug was necessarily called for.

“There, there child.” She settled on patting the top of Cassie’s head.

The girl leaned out of her reach. “Don’t touch my head.”

Arm dropping back to her side, Britta nodded in agreement. “Good. Glad we both find this awkward.” She forced a polite smile.

Cassie frowned back.

“I’m sure Jeff is on his way back.” Annie’s eyes darted to each member of the group, nodding for the them to follow her lead. Various degrees of commitment shined in her friends’ eyes, positive agreements muttered along to Annie’s optimistic output. “This might be a lot for him to process—a lot for _you_ to process, Cassie.” Giving her best supportive smile, she sat in the open space beside Shirley. “So we’ll all wait here until he gets back!”

That’s when the true indignation came to fruition—

“I have a babysitter I am paying by the hour—”

“What? No. Jeff’s kid can wait it out. I have better people to be with—"

“Uh, yeah, Abed and I have a movie to catch—”

“I have a friend’s house to get to—to do things! Non-illegal things…” Britta scratched the back of her neck, feeling Shirley’s stern stare.

“We are going to wait!” Annie ordered, silencing the group. “However long it takes.”

“Or I can just walk home? Or one of you can give me a ride?” Cassie offered, speaking up for the first time since her dad all but abandoned her on the Greendale’s campus. “He once left me standing in a Macy’s parking lot because he didn’t want to lose his space and he needed to double check a different Macy’s a few towns over for some perfume for my grandma.” She shrugged hoping these people would see she is fine and leave her alone. “So this is not the first time something like this has happened.”

“And he always picks you up?” Shirley asked, double checking for her own conscience.

“Yup.” In situations like that he never left her alone for more than an hour and he forced her take a self-defense seminar when she turned thirteen and had been invited to her first boy-girl party, so she was covered. At least, that’s what Cassie liked to believe.

Except the disappointed niggle in her chest told her otherwise.

The disappointed niggle that would appear whenever he dad did something dumb or selfish or just….wrong, and she had to sit there and watch from the sidelines.

“You know what, sweetie, we will wait,” Shirley patted her shoulder, wiping off some dried up frosting. “If you say he’ll come back, I believe you.”

“Sure,” Britta mumbled, “that’s what every kid says about their dad— _ow_!” She glared down at Annie, who released her under arm pinch with a stressed smile.

“Britta, why don’t you and…” Annie’s eyes lit up at the sight of Pierce, “why don’t you and Pierce go get some snacks and drinks from the vending machine or something?”

Britta looked on the verge of arguing, but swallowed it. “Sure thing.” Without the other’s looking she flipped off Annie. The other girl coolly ignored her. “Come on Pierce, you’re buying.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Pierce grinned, digging into his pocket for his wallet.

Annoyed, Britta led the way, Pierce beginning to chat her ear off about one of his favorite step-children he hadn’t been in contact with in the last decade.

“So are you and Jeff more like Lorelai and Rory or a more like an Ann and Julie?” Abed asked.

“What is he talking about?” Cassie whispered to the others.

“Gilmore Girls or One Day at a Time,” Abed added, “those are the first that come to mind about single parents remaining single and raising their teenagers.” His head tilted to the side, curious. “Are you a product of teenage pregnancy?”

“Abed!”

“Buddy, no,” Troy winced out.

“Abed, we don’t ask those kinds of questions.” Shirley shook her head at him, warning him. However any warnings she mentally sent his direction went right over his head. “But if you are a child born out of sin, I can call up my prayer group right now.”

“Let’s not,” Annie said, sensing Cassie tensing at the vague implications of her birth.

“It was an honest question.” Abed kept his eyes locked on Cassie, eyebrows gently creasing together. “She is older than I expected, which means Jeff became a dad early in life or…he is older than I originally thought.” His head tilted to the other side. “Is your mother of Latin descent? It would explain the hair and eyes.”

Cassie bristled. “I don’t talk to my mother.”

“I don’t talk to my mom either,” Annie added, hoping to cool the one sided tension brewing from the girl. “Nothing wrong with that!” Her forced laugh made everyone cringe.

“I would tell you his age, but he has sworn me to secrecy,” Cassie said blankly, “but his Facebook says he’s thirty-one.”

“So he is _older_ than thirty-one?” Troy asked, confused, attempting to count on his fingers.

“Maybe.” Cassie nodded her head, mouthing ‘yes.’

“Hmm, the plot thickens,” Abed mused.

As though hearing his cue, a tall, frosting covered man was spotted making his way from the parking lot. He held a towel in one hand and frosting was no longer hardening like hair gel on his head.

He stopped a few paces away from bench, eyeing the group warily.

“I’m…sorry,” he gritted out, as though a broken bone was being snapped back in place, “for…running away.” He tossed her a towel, nearly smacking Cassie in the face. “Here. I found a towel in the trunk of the car. Clean yourself up.”

“Is there anything else you’d maybe like to say to your daughter?” Annie pressed.

“Like maybe an apology?” Shirley added sweetly. “Seeing as she is your only gift from God _you may ever get_?” her lowered voice heeded all warning of what exactly she thought of Jeff and his occasional lack of parental common sense.

But he wasn’t here to be scolded or shamed by Shirley, Annie, and Abed’s penetrating stare.

Jeff huffed. “Yeah…Cassie we can talk more in the car,” he stated bluntly, a small smugness edging into his voice by the less than pleased expressions of his friends. “Because this is a conversation for home and not…everyone.”

Relief shined back at him from Cassie, she standing up from the little protective formation the group seemed to set up around her, like she was some baby chicken about to fall out of the coop.

A part of him was touched by their immediate care for Cassie, and the other part was annoyed beyond repair. He didn’t need the group digging their nose in his personal business. They already knew about enough failures in their life, as well as a few romantic entanglements—i.e. Michelle Slater—he didn’t need them to be all invested in Cassie.

Especially if he planned on getting out of Greendale the moment he earned his degree fair and square in the eyes of the Colorado State Bar. She didn’t need more people in her life disappointing her and abandoning her.

Shuffling over to him, Jeff rested a hand on her shoulder, ready to lead her back to the car.

“Uh,” he glanced back to the groups concerned and curious eyes, “I’ll see you guys on Monday and,” the phrased slipped out of him before he could really consider the ramifications, “thanks for watching Cassie.”

Shirley perked, a proud smile forming while Annie seemed to melt at the sentiment. Troy buffed up at the thanks, and Abed, as always, simply stared in thought.

Jeff and Cassie turned to take their leave, by passing a snack and soda laden Britta and Pierce.

“You’re back?” Britta cried out, whipping around to follow for half a step. “What the hell man? We thought you’d be gone for at least an hour.”

“An hour? Come on, Britta.” Jeff looked down at her, feeling her animosity rise another three levels.

“Really!”

“That just means more snacks for us,” Pierce grinned, nudging Britta’s shoulder.

Her nose wrinkled.

“Have a good weekend you two.” Jeff pushed Cassie along, leaving before Britta could reel him into an argument or Pierce made everyone uncomfortable, both of which could happen in a matter of seconds if he wasn’t too careful.

The walk back to the car was in silence. Cassie kept her head tucked down, eyes glued to the pavement. She had shutdown, not speaking a word since he came back and he couldn’t blame her.

This wouldn’t have been the first time (nor the last time) he’d leave on her own in effort to run away from his own problems. He was by no means perfect, and Cassie knew that.

But sometimes it sucked being on the wrong end of a situation.

“They’re weird,” Cassie finally said as they came up to the Lexus. “Like really, really weird.” It took Jeff a second to realize she was talking about the study group.

“Yeah, I know.” He unlocked the car, taking his spot on the driver’s side.

Cassie opened the passenger side, laid down the clean side of the towel on the seat and then climbed in. “The old guy is creepy, then that one guy asks too many personal questions, and the Blonde just doesn’t know how to talk to people without arguing.” She paused. “Shirley, Annie, and that other guy—Troy?—seem nice.”

“No, they are as diabolical as the rest, they just hide it better in company.”

“That’s disconcerting.”

Hands frozen over the ignition, Jeff fell back in his seat, exhausted. If, no _when_ , — he had to be realistic and understand his daughter and his world with the study group were going to collide at some point—Cassie met the group, he never wanted her to meet them on her own. Of course his tragic downfall was how created the situation he so did not desire by accident. Impressions were everything, even with his well-meaning lunatics, and Cassie got to see them in action without him there.

That meant anything could be said or happened. But he was somewhat relieved to see nothing too terrible happened.

“I’m sorry I lied.”

Cassie’s head whipped to him, eyes wide. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Jeff repeated, earnest for once, “I shouldn’t have lied to you about my law degree. I shouldn’t have lied to you about Greendale. Hell, maybe I shouldn’t have lied to you about Santa.”

“No, the Santa lie was fine,” she assured him, “that one was fun while it lasted.”

He chuckled a little. “You did believe in Santa a lot longer than most kids, it was hard to keep up.” When she was still thirteen and asking to write a letter to Santa, Jeff knew he needed someone to ruin the spirit of Christmas for her. Luckily it came in form of a dumb teen dramady rather than himself.

“The point of the matter is I’m sorry about all of this.” He motioned to himself. “I know I kind of suck.”

“Yeah, you do.”

His eyes snapped to her, annoyed. “You’re not going to argue otherwise?”

Cassie shook her head. “If we are measuring up competent fathers, you fall pretty low on the list. Doesn’t matter if it’s the world, the United States, or Colorado. You do kind of suck.” She gave a small shrug. “But in theory, all parents suck, even the good ones. Because screw ups happen. My old friend, Leslie—”

“Braces and Lisp Girl?”

“Yeah,” Cassie nodded, “her parents are legitimately the best. Textbook good parents. They let her do whatever she wants, show up for all her events. They are still together, keeping up with the nuclear family theory. They take the annual family trips and have the customary dinner together every night—no dads who work late and remember last minute to call take out or make a salad because salads are ‘healthy’,” she rolled her eyes, “But they don’t know her. They don’t know she has been hooking up with some dude from Denver. Or that she buys all her essays from Craigslist.”

“Braces and Lisp Girl?” Jeff repeated, making sure they were still talking about the same person. “Wow, severely underestimated that kid.”

“We all did.” She paused, looking out the semi-empty Greendale parking lot. “But in comparison I think you are a better parent than Leslie’s parents because you know me. No one knows me better than you, Dad. And I can’t imagine massively lying to you, even though you’ve lied to me.” She blinked, considering all the lies he unloaded, perhaps knowing that was just scratching the surface. “ _A lot_.”

“Well, thanks. For thinking maybe I am not the worst.”

“Of course.”

“And I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Jeff confessed, his well-crafted confidence slowly slipping away. “I wanted to tell you about Greendale. Eventually. I didn’t know when, but I want to at the right time. I mean, I’m your hero Cassie, no decent dad wants to ruin themselves in the eyes of their kid.”

Cassi’s brows furrowed. “You’re _not_ my hero.”

“I’m not?” Huh, he never considered that.

“No,” she shook her head, laughing at him, “Nana Doreen is my hero.”

“What? _My mom_?”

“Have you _seen_ how that woman looks?” Cassie, perhaps, had a point. His mother was well in shape for her age and kept up with her health, however this was a later in life choice. “She’s almost sixty and I swear she has rock-hard abs.”

“Are you saying you want to Jazzercise to Jane Fonda for the rest of your life?” He quipped, turning his keys in the ignition.

“God, no,” Cassie snorted. “That hair is insane.”

“It was cool.”

“You have to be lying!”

As their heart to heart melted away, the stress of truth and lies became a moment of the past. Maybe this was good change for both of them—being honest about his past and present questionable choices with her. She was becoming an adult in the real sense, and he needed to remember that.

But he still needed time to consider the early graduation and attending Greendale thing.

Having both Cassie and the study group on the same campus? That was asking for a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, if y'all haven't caught on Jeff is kind of not the best parent, but he tries his best (?). And we will eventually meet Cassie's mom, who I already have somewhat of a facecast for because I think it would be hilarious to see this particular actor in the chaotic world of Community :)
> 
> I know not a lot happened with the study group in the last two chapters, but they'll become bigger characters (especially my girls Shirley, Annie, and Britta) as we go on into other short stories and parts. And certain events will take place between canon episodes which I will be mention in the beginning notes.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Love discussing the fic with readers :)


	3. Interlude ~ The Monday After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small chapter that might answer some burning questions.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Mondays were easy in the Winger household despite both father and daughter lacking enthusiasm in attending their institutions of education.

Mondays were days to set the bars low, anticipate the worst, and in Jeff’s not so humble opinion, made to simply get through the first twenty-four hours of growing pains set out for the next week. Anything that could go wrong, will go wrong and Jeff would accept it with little to no reaction.

Because that was just Mondays.

However when Cassie had left the Lexus, heading off to school with her intent to graduate form filled out and signed by him, her sole and legal guardian, with possibly the largest grin on her face he had ever seen…Jeff realized maybe this Monday was a _special Monday_.

Still a Monday with growing pains—his daughter, the only person he ever cared for more than himself and his mother, was going to graduate early; he thought he still had time before the obligatory sentimental emotions came crashing down on him—but maybe these growing pains were _good_ growing pains.

At least that was what Jeff believed until he stepped into the study room.

Sitting in their designated spots, all waiting, were the study group—Annie, Shirley, Pierce, Troy, Abed, and Britta. All early; a surprise considering Jeff could five times out of ten count on either Britta or Pierce to be almost late, making him look just a tad early in comparison. All their beady eyes remained intent and most of them (not Abed, of course not Abed who openly stared at Jeff) tried way too hard to act casual. A twiddle of hair, a tap of a pencil, uninterested whistling.

Jeff knew a surprise interrogation when he saw one.

“What’s up?” He pulled out his chair, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You guys have a good weekend?” Like muscle memory, he grabbed his phone and began fiddling with the buttons. If he acted casual, unamused, nonplused, then their impending interrogation would fall apart. The study group didn’t scare him.

“What’s up?” Britta echoed, brittle. Her hands flattened against the study table, eyes wide—she turned to the rest of the group, no doubt trying to reel them into their planned questioning.

“ _Yeah_?” Jeff said, knowing his vague disinterest would get under her skin.

“What’s wrong is you have a daughter and you didn’t tell us!” Britta sat up taller. “Do you not know how this has effected,” she motioned to the entire table, “all of us? What other secrets has Jeff Winger been harboring!”

Jeff frowned, phone still in hand. “It’s my personal life,” he said point blank, “I don’t go around interrogating and asking Shirley questions about her kids.”

All eyes snapped to Shirley.

“But Shirley willingly offers information of her kids, even when we don’t want it,” Abed chimed in, a small whimper of offense coming from the woman in question. “No offense.” He glanced at Britta and Troy. “That was a ‘no offense’ situation right?”

Neither offered an answer.

“But at least I talk about the lights of my life,” Shirley defended, riled up at the fact the conversation was whisked her way instead of Jeff’s, who they were _supposed_ _to be_ questioning, “instead you hid little Cassie like she is something to be ashamed of!”

“I am _not_ ashamed of my daughter,” Jeff corrected, trying to keep his cool on the accusation; he had to remind himself this was coming from Shirley—she was the queen of guilt tripping, “she’s just not here. Out sight, out of mind.” He gave small shrug.

“But why not talk about her?” Britta pressed. “She’s a _huge_ part of your life. She’s a whole person with half your DNA!”

“Is it because you’re embarrassed?” Annie asked, a sympathetic wince etched across her face.

“ _What_?” Cassie was many things—an annoyance, a money pit, an occasional know-it-all brat—but never once did Jeff consider her an embarrassment of any kind.

“If you think we are going to treat you any differently, you are wrong,” Annie assured him. “You are still the Jeff Winger we call a friend, even if you didn’t tell us you have a seventeen year old daughter. There is nothing to be worried about.”

Jeff sensed some (read: a lot) passive aggressiveness from Annie, but he knew better than to press it at the moment.

His phone landed on the study table; maybe he needed to throw them a bone. Keep the group sedated with some answers, but not all. “I am not embarrassed, or ashamed, or whatever else you might think,” he shot Troy’s way, the boy looking like he was about to interrupt with his own two cents. He slouched back down at Jeff’s silent warning. “Keeping Cassie from you guys wasn’t on purpose. She never came up in conversation,” he reasoned. Their stares were stern, but lessened in intensity.

This group wasn’t going to give up easily.

“If you guys want…” God, he was going to regret this, “you can ask some questions about her—”

“What school does she go to?”

“Are you her sole guardian because if you are that’s insane! It’s _you_!”

“Does she like sports? Or video games? Or cheese-puffs? Cheese puffs are _so_ good!”

“ _Cassie_? Is that short for something? Like Cassandra?”

“Is she really yours? You can never be too careful these days, Winger.”

“How old were you when you became a father?”

All questions ceased when Abed asked his question, he unblinking and waiting.

“Um…” Jeff blinked, surprised by the question. He didn’t like talking about his age mostly because in his twenties (having a kid so young, lying about his age—making himself seem older, to get the assistant job at his first law firm) it caused scrutiny and now in his thirties it caused scrutiny of another way.

“I’m asking for continuity sake,” Abed clarified.

“I was seventeen almost eighteen,” Jeff said, if not a bit terse. “Don’t believe a girl when she says she’s taking an organic birth control pill she got from a friend because you’ll end up with a kid and drop out of your first semester of college to take care of said kid.”

Pitiful awe’s echoed through the room.

Ugh, this is exactly what he didn’t want. The pity, the soft stares of admiration because there was nothing admirable about his choice. He was being a decent guy—a decent father. He needed to be better than his old man, and this was him being better.

Across the table, Abed hummed. “Okay. Okay. Cool, cool, cool.” He stared up, as though mentally doing the math, and nodded. “My initial guess checks out. Continue.”

“You were a teen dad Jeffery?” Shirley’s initial scolding softened. “That must have been so hard.”

“It’s in the past,” he shrugged, the situation now feeling too touchy-feely for his liking. “Any other questions so we can move past whatever,” he motioned to their pitiful expressions, “this is?”

“So you are her sole guardian then?” Britta asked again, thankfully taking the reins of the conversation.

“Yeah. Just me and Cassie.”

“Interesting,” she drawled out, eyes narrowed, “interesting. The psyche of Jeff Winger just keeps expanding.” She leaned back in her chair, nodding sagely.

God, she was the worst, wasn’t she?

“So she’s in high school right?” Annie asked. “Where does she go? Is she looking at any big colleges? Does she need help to prep for SATs or ACTs or applications?” The words sputtered out her like a windmill, Annie seeming to make a college prep list in her mind in an instant.

“She goes to Riverside.”

“Woo!” Troy cheered. “She’s gonna love it—wait do we know her?” Troy motioned to Annie, eyes wide. “Wait, it she part of our origin story?”

Abed’s eyes widened at the mention of origin story, he quickly marking down some notes in his binder.

“No, no,” Jeff shook his head, “she just transferred. She’s only going to be there a semester. Then she’ll go here for a couple of years.”

“She’s…she’s going to Greendale?” Annie uttered, stunned by the news. “Your daughter…who is smart enough to graduate _a semester early_ is going to Greendale?”

“It was a compromise,” Jeff rolled his eyes, “she’s seventeen and she doesn’t necessarily want to leave home yet. So we settled on Greendale. For now. She _will_ be transferring.”

Murmurs of subtle disagreement sounded through the group.

Jeff ignored them; Cassie wasn’t going to be like him and officially get her degree from Greendale like he, unfortunately, planned to. She was smarter, more resourceful, and all around better than him.

“So does that mean she’ll join the study group?” Troy asked, seemingly excited about the idea.

Jeff barked a laugh.

“No. Don’t make jokes like that.” He shook his head, unable to stop his laughter. “Because—because Cassie joining the study group means she’s a _real_ student here, and she can’t be a real student here because then she’ll be an almost adult, and my daughter is _not_ an adult who doesn’t need her dad anymore—” The laughter stumbling out of him could not stop, instead it formed into desperate wheezing. He tried to stop, he really did, but he couldn’t. “She still needs me! To, to driver her places! She’s a terrible driver. She doesn’t even know how to park and—” He stopped, eyes wide, and mouth opening and closing as reality slammed down hard on his brain.

“Is…is he okay?” Annie whispered.

“I think he’s having a psychotic breakdown.” Britta leaned forward, waving a hand over his face.

Jeff did not blink or move, stunned still.

“Hmm, I thought the psychotic breakdown wouldn’t happen until at least year two. This Cassie plot point does progress things I suppose.”

“My daughter is going to college,” he breathed, eyes glazed as he stared into the nothingness of the table, “that means I’m…” he pointed to himself.

He couldn’t say the words. His mouth was forming the ‘o’ but he couldn’t utter the blasted word for the life of him.

“ _Old_ ,” Britta supplied. “I think he’s trying to say ‘old’.”

“Welcome to the club, Jeff!” Pierce called out. “It’s only uphill from here! Isn’t that right Shirley?”

“How old do you think I am?” She swatted him away. She turned back to the panicked group, apparently sensing their lack of well…sense about the situation. “Why don’t we leave Jeffery alone for a minute, hmm?”

Hesitant grumbles came from the group, but the moment each of them were standing, all but Shirley dashed out the door.

No one knew what to do with a…with a somewhat emotional Jeff.

Hell _Jeff_ didn’t know what to do with an emotional Jeff.

“Jeffery,” Shirley began, walking around the table to him, handbag over her shoulder, “it’s okay to be sad and happy about this. It’s a sad and happy time,” she reasoned, gently patting his shoulder. “Your daughter is growing up and you did it. You raised her by yourself—”

“I’m _old_ now. And everyone will know I am old,” he finally said, turning to Shirley desperately. “No one can know she’s my daughter.”

“Well, it’s a little too late for that,” Shirley reminded him, the Harvest Extravaganza garnering enough of a crowd to let the news spread across campus like wildfire. “But look at this way—you’ll be able to bond with your daughter. Get to spend more time with her here.”

“Yeah…” He sighed, rubbing his face. “Is thirty-five old? It didn’t feel old yesterday.”

“As they say, thirties are the new twenties,” she assured him brightly.

“Women’s magazines only print that to make mothers feel better about themselves and their age,” Jeff rebutted, dejected by the phrase. “But I understand the sentiment.”

“Good.” Shirley nodded. “We should probably get going before the group starts wondering if you really did lose some marbles.”

Jeff stood up, grabbing his binder and books, knowing she had a point. Leave the group alone for too long and they’ll come up with their own hairbrained ideas and explanations of events.

“And Jeff,” Shirley called out before they completely left the room, “if you ever need another parent to talk to about anything, I’m here.”

“Oh thanks,” he nodded once, “but I’ve never done the single parents, mommy-and-me support group things, or whatever they are. Never needed them.”

Shirley raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Cassie’s has always been an easy kid. Mild mannered, never caused trouble except from the occasional tantrum.” He got lucky. Extremely lucky. He could have had a monster as a child. But instead he got a Cassie who preferred to read than go to wild parties and liked to ignore chaos when it came knocking. He was positive she’d never seen a keg in her life. “Even when she got all hormonal as a teenager, nothing much changed.”

He might have been boasting a little. Not everyone could have a kid like his.

“You better mark your words because all kids cause their parents a headache to the point they want to shake some sense into their little bodies sooner or later. And other parents are there to help them vent. An ear to listen.”

“Will it make you feel better if I say ‘I’ll keep it in mind’?” Jeff settled on; Shirley wasn’t going to let this go, and they had Spanish to get to.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll keep it in mind,” Jeff told her. “Now let’s get going before we end up stuck sitting next to Starburns.”

(It wasn’t until he was sitting in his car, getting ready to head to his mother’s to pick up Cassie did Jeff put Shirley’s number on speed dial.

He wasn’t going to call her in crisis, but he felt better knowing she was number four.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a small time jump; we'll be in the spring semester, specifically a side story coinciding the events of Investigative Journalism. 
> 
> I'm not planning of this fic being a rewrite of a bunch of episodes (some will definitely happen, such as the season 1 finale) but more so little nuggets and side stories happening within some of set canon. I don't need to rehash some events of the show if y'all already have seen it, but I will reference moments and put the coinciding episodes in the beginning notes.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :)


	4. Ethics of Schedules & Nepotism ~ Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this technically happens during Investigative Journalism (1.13), kind of like an additional little subplot/"meanwhile" during that timeframe as it does lightly reference some events from the episode, but nothing major.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later. And I apologize for the exceedingly and potentially obnoxious amounts of early and late '00 references these next chapters may have, lol. 
> 
> Enjoy :D

* * *

With Christmas an awkward endeavor—a dinner which involved her dad dropping the bomb of his disbarment and degree-less status to Nana Doreen—and New Year’s Eve no better—her dad had been bitter about Christmas so New Year’s festivities were restricted to ordering ‘healthy’ pizza for the night and watching the ball drop on television—Cassie was more than ready to start the next chapter of her life, as cheesy as it sounded.

Because high school was finally over and this semester meant bright and greener pastures. This next semester meant the beginning of something new and—

“Happy first day at Greendale, Cassie!” Annie cheered, popping a streamer. Confetti flew through the air, landing on Cassie’s head and the linoleum floor below them.

“Oh, uh thanks?” She picked off a piece of tinsel from her shoulder, nose scrunching. Glancing around the hall, Cassie noticed a few students snickering, but ultimately no one paid any mind. “You didn’t need to do whatever that was,” she motioned to the popper, “it’s just the first day of community college. My dad didn’t even do anything to commemorate the day. Just a grunt of ‘let’s go kid before the Starbucks line gets too long’. And then I had to pay for both our drinks.” She turned to her locker, twisting the combination before stilling. “Wait—how did you know this was my locker?”

Annie gave a small shrug. “Talk to the right people and you can find out just about anything at Greendale.”

“I see.” Cassie dropped off a couple of her newly acquired textbooks into her locker, shutting it without adding anything else. “Dually noted.”

“I figured Jeff would be more excited for this day. I mean, his only child is now an early high school graduate and is going to college, even if it is Greendale.”

“I think I’m cramping his style,” Cassie confessed, knowing how much her dad cared about his image, both physical and impression-wise. Afterall he hogged the bathroom each morning for at least an hour and half, and forty-five minutes of that allot time was dedicated to styling his hair in the most perfect way that screamed _I-care-but-also I-don’t_. “Here he is ‘cool’ Jeff Winger. Me being here adds a tad of reality to the mystery he likes to conjure. A reminder to any prospective ladies I am indeed the living breathing baggage that comes with the man.”

“You’re not baggage,” Annie assured her, “you are an unexpected, but nice surprise.”

“That’s what Nana Doreen says about my birth.”

“Ouch. Poor choice of words.”

“Just a little.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here Cassie.”

If Cassie could sum up the few interactions she had with Annie—including walking over to Greendale on the last day of last semester to find out her dad and his study group got into a fight and the time Annie stopped by the apartment (how did she know their address? Cassie was too afraid to ask) to drop off Hanukkah presents and homemade cookies—the words driven, considerate, and smothering all came to mind.

But Annie was _somehow_ her dad’s friend, and Cassie was always told to be pleasant to his friends. Even the jerks at his firm. So being nice to Annie was a cakewalk in comparison.

The two made their way to the library, Annie leading towards the building with burning purpose in her step.

“This is where we depart,” Cassie declared, sensing Annie was prepared to drag her into the mythical study room.

“What? No.” The two stepped outside, walking through the lazy hordes of students, the library just few more yards away. “You gotta go say ‘hi’ to everyone else.”

Yeah, that was exactly what Cassie didn’t want. “Ah, yeah. No.” Pursing her lips she shook her head. “You guys are my dad’s study group. I don’t want to step on anymore toes.”

“You won’t be stepping on toes.” Annie was quick to assure her, looping their arms together like little school girl buddies. “You’re already like an honorary member! Plus Jeff has a seat open next to him and it’s next to me, so it’s perfect!”

“Oo,” Cassie’s voice trilled up, not excited about the idea in the slightest, “sounds _so_ fun.”

But alas, her forced enthusiasm went over Annie’s head. “Yay!”

Yanking her along, Annie led the way into the library, passing by several students who muttered and sneered less than polite greetings. Annie, of course, responded back with the same level of peppiness she always—at least in Cassie’s eyes—seemed to produce into the world.

Upon entering the library, the first thing Cassie noticed was the lack of decent organization of books—there were several carts lined up with books waiting to be restacked—and the fact the computer cubbies scattered throughout the common areas were ancient. Computers from the end of the century instead of 2010, as though the space were a time capsule of the college from the late 90s. The blue colored walls of the library made the space more cave like and less spacious than the building suggested.

“Hey, guys!” Annie announced upon entering the study room. “Guess who I found in the hall!”

“She more so stalked me.”

“Cassie!” Shirley cheered, hurrying over to her from where she was catching up with Abed, Troy, and Pierce. She brought the girl into a gentle, warm hug, Cassie realizing a beat too late that this would perhaps be how Shirley always greet her. “It is so nice to see you sweetie. Did you have a good break?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cassie muttered, pulling away from the hug. “It was fine. Mostly spent it at home with Dad—”

“Oh Cassandra, we get it— you love your dad, who wouldn’t. With a cool guy like that,” Pierce interjected, patting Cassie on the shoulder like they were old friends. “No need to spill all the Winger family secrets. But tell me, did he use the booze I gave him?”

He must have been talking about the gift wrapped bottle her dad stuck at the back of the shelf immediately upon reading the tag. “The booze? Oh he—”

“Here,” he handed her a tiny flask with a wink, “just to make it through the day.”

Cassie’s jaw unhinged. “Um, I’m seventeen.”

Pierce just chuckled, as though she said some inside joke. “Wild years, right?”

“Honey, I made you some cookies,” Shirley passed over a small tubberware full of chocolate chip cookies, “I figured since it was your first day, you deserve something sweet.”

“Aw, thank you—”

“So, Cas,” Troy declared, jumping into the conversation without hesitation—the only tactic that seemed to work when wanting to get in an edge in word-wise with this group, “Abed and I are going to give you a full tour of Greendale after classes today.”

“That’s not really necessary. The campus is pretty self-explanatory—”

“Here is the map we made.” Abed handed her a perfectly lined and drawn map of the Greendale campus, with codes and nicknames listed in the key. “Think of this as _Mean Girls_ and Troy and I are your Janis and Dameon.”

“Who’s Janis and who’s Dameon?” Cassie could not help but ask.

“Janis,” Abed pointed to himself, “Dameon,” he pointed to Troy. Together they did a chest-pat handshake.

“That…honestly explains so much.” Cassie folded up the map and shoved it into her back pocket. “Thank you all for this _really_ unnecessary—”

“Did I miss it?” Britta came running in, a fist full of colorful balloons, blown up and thumping against each other in rapidly. “I got the balloons like Annie—” She stopped upon finding nearly the entire group there, Cassie’s arms laden with ‘first day’ gifts. Britta slouched, scuffing her toe to the ground. “I missed it didn’t I?”

“Yeah…” Troy bared the bad news. Quietly, he and Abed took the balloons from her grasp.

“Well, ‘Happy First Day’, Cassie,” Britta muttered, no longer in the spirit for celebrating, if that was what the situation could even be called.

“Thanks, Britta.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, turning to resuming pleasantries and greetings amongst the rest of the group. “So what were you guys up to during the break?”

As if a green light had gone off over their heads, all six of them started talking over each other. To an outsider, their words sounded like plain gibberish, with various levels of excitement and cheer.

All Cassie could catch were the words ‘snow,’ ‘Christmas,’ and ‘movies.’

Go figure.

“Who missed me?”

“Jeff!”

Gibberish ceased in favor of fawning over the tallest man in the room, Jeff basking in the attention. Endearing ‘hellos’ were exchanged, along with the obligatory side hugs.

It wasn’t until all pleasantries were put aside did her dad finally notice Cassie in the room. “Why are you here?”

“I go to school here. You literally drove me here less than an hour ago.”

“No, I know that,” he rolled his eyes, “I meant why are you in the study room? You don’t have Spanish with us. So therefore you cannot be in the study group.”

“Jeffery!”

“Jeff, _really_?”

“She’s your kid, man!”

“That’s low, even for you.”

“Come on you guys.” Jeff huffed, his eyes begging them to understand his reasoning. “There really is no point of Cassie joining the study group when she doesn’t even have the class with us.” He looked around at the considering expressions of his peers, knowing he was winning them over. “As much as I love my daughter,” ‘aws’ chorused through the group, “I cannot not let this interloper into our group.”

Cassie’s head craned back, glaring up at the ceiling. “Just say I’m cramping your style and I’ll be gone.”

“You are not cramping my style,” her dad echoed the phrase with disgust, “I am simply telling you it is the principle of the matter, _Smalls_.” He whipped out the childhood nickname with ease, he proudly calling her the iconic nickname from the beloved sports coming of age film, _The Sandlot_. A film she maybe watched one too many times in her youth due to her not-so-small crush on the character Benny “The Jet” Rodriguez.

Her eyes narrowed.

Abed’s eyes widened a subtle fraction. “You are a fan of the cult classic _The Sandlot_?” He hummed. “Interesting. Unexpected. I like it. Might come in handy for a baseball episode.”

“Fine! I don’t want to be part of your stupid study group anyways.” Cassie shot back. Turning on her heel, she marched out of the room through the opposite set of doors and made her way towards her first class—Ethics of Twilight and Triangles— ignoring the calls of her name as she left them in the dust.

Traveling across campus to the social sciences building, Cassie found her classroom with ease. A few other girls were scattered around in the desks, some keeping to themselves while a couple who were obviously friends, sat together and chatted in their wait.

Cassie sat in the first available seat in the front, making no move to introduce herself. She wasn’t here to make friends, but to get a head start on her higher education.

By the time ten-thirty rolled around for the beginning of class, a frizzy hair professor, with a long cardigan and clogs came ambling in. Her glasses were skewed, yet she walked with an air of loftiness and authority.

A bubble of anticipation swelled within Cassie—this was the beginning of _real_ learning.

_Thud—_ A canvas tote bag dropped on the front desk. The professor reached into her bag, grabbing a black dry erase marker, and wrote a large _E_ and _J_ on opposite sides on the board.

She spun back around to the class, eyes grave and serious.

“Today only one question matters,” she slammed a hand to the board, “are you _Team Edward_ or _Team Jacob_?”

Oh fuck.

It was _that_ kind of Twilight.

* * *

“That was a douche move you made this morning.”

Looking up from his less than pleasant lunch of meatballs and spaghetti, Jeff’s eyes landed on Britta. He shifted further down the line, grabbing a bottle of water from the open beverage cooler.

“I am not sure what you are talking about.”

Britta snatched an orange juice from the cooler, following after Jeff like a pesky fly as he made way to find a seat in the quickly filling cafeteria.

“You know exactly what I am talking about.”

“I really don’t.”

“The fact you excluded your own flesh and blood from the study group.”

“Because she doesn’t have Spanish with us,” Jeff told her, not seeing how this was a problem. “We already have a ‘Buddy Situation’ on our hands.” Everyone was losing their cool and avoiding the study room at the moment since Buddy, one of their obnoxious Spanish classmates, had it planted in his head he wanted to be in their study group. “we don’t need a ‘Cassie Situation’ on top of it.”

“Puh-lease,” Britta uttered, rolling her eyes, “the ‘Buddy Situation’ is completely different than the ‘Cassie Situation’ because we actually want Cassie around and for some reason _you_ don’t.”

Jeff spotted Annie, Troy, and Shirley already sitting down in a booth. Ignoring Britta, he beelined towards the three. Sensing his flee, Britta sped up and swung around to block his path.

“Admit it Jeff you are having a parental-existential crisis with Cassie being here.” She stared up at him, challenging him to face the issue. An issue Jeff didn’t like and one she was reaching far too out for; the woman takes one psychology class and she believes she can crack down on any blip of mental and emotional uncertainty. “It’s okay if you do. I’m sure most parents of a certain age do, and like Cassie said, if you just admit you think she is cramping your style, just say so. The first step is acceptance.”

“Britta, admit it, you don’t know anything about psychology or the first thing about my family,” Jeff shot back, walking around her.

Upon making eye contact with Annie, he gave a charming smile. “Hey everyone,” he greeted, sliding into the spot open next to Troy, “how was—”

Then his eyes landed on Cassie. Sitting on the other side of Troy.

“What are you doing here?” Jeff hissed over Troy’s head.

“I’m in a Winger-Sandwich!” Troy cheered, head ping-ponging between the two. “Cassie of the left, Jeff on the right. Troy in the middle, nice and tight,” he hummed his little ditty, Shirley and Annie dancing and nodding along in their seats.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Cassie and Jeff ordered, exasperated.

Leaning forward, she caught her father’s eye. “I’m here because Troy invited me to lunch.”

“You invited her to lunch with us?” Jeff asked, sparing Troy a quick glance.

“Oh yeah. We have Sociology together,” Troy explained, “which is awesome because I need a study partner. Isn’t that right, Cas?” He held his knuckles out to her for a fist bump.

Bemused, Cassie tapped her fist to his. “You got it, stud-bud,” she deadpanned.

“Wait,” Britta sat down across from Jeff, a smug grin firmly planted on her lips, “are you saying Cassie _technically_ has a class with one of us?” She waved to the table, a fake gasp of disbelief escaping her. Honestly, she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Oh, we also have Mod-Podge Collage together!” Annie added.

“What is this? Another class with someone from our study group?” Britta uttered, her mocking eyes landing on Jeff. “Why golly, you might as well just join us.”

“I didn’t sign up for that,” Cassie corrected, thoroughly puzzled. “I would remember if I signed up for a class called Mod-Podge Collage.”

“Might want to check your schedule.” Annie gave her a large wink.

Oh god no.

Hauling her messenger back on to her lap, Cassie dug for her class timetable. She found the neatly printed paper in seconds, eyes widening. “Physics of Falling, Statistics, Journalism, Mod-Podge—what the hell? I didn’t sign up for any of these!”

“Oo! Physics of Falling? I have that,” Shirley told her, pleasantly surprised.

“And I have Statistics,” Jeff added, connecting the dots of what exactly happened with Cassie’s schedule. “Okay which one of you changed her schedule so she’d have at least one class with all of us this semester?”

His eyes darted to each study group member, even the nervous but obviously not guilty Troy. One of them had to crack sooner or later, and knowing this bunch, it would be sooner.

In the end it was Annie who couldn’t handle the heat this time. “It was joint effort, okay!”

“Annie!” Britta hissed.

Shirley sent a quick prayer, repenting. “Please God forgive me for this tomfoolery.”

Annie huffed, arms flailing. “None of us thought it was fair this morning how you completely dismissed Cassie joining the group! So we chatted—”

“When?” Jeff asked. “I have been with you guys all morning.”

Troy believed the question was in earnest, ready to provide the truth. “We have a group chat—"

“We have our ways,” Annie interjected, shooting Troy a ‘zip it’ stare and motion. “But we all agreed Cassie should have first dibs on the open seat in the group if she wants it!”

“But I still don’t understand how you slipped a different schedule in my bag without me knowing—” She stopped, jaw dropping as the pieces finally fell into place, “wait— _Janis_!”

“Who?” Jeff was getting more and more confused the longer they spoke in half explanations.

“My Janis!” Cassie repeated. 

* * *

_**TWO HOURS EARLIER** _

With an hour between her Ethics of Twilight & Triangles class and Sociology, Cassie took her time wandering around the Greendale campus before deciding to make her way back to her locker.

She’d just walked past the library when she remember the hand-drawn map of the school Abed gave her that morning.

Plucking it from her back pocket, Cassie stepped out of the hallway’s path of traffic and attempted to find where she was on the map, tucking her class schedule under her arm.

It took some flipping and turning around (it wasn’t the most effective map, locations written in code names and short hand, obviously made as a prop for when Abed and Troy decided to give their grand tour of campus) but she eventually found where the library was located and began to mentally make a route to her locker.

Just as she closed the map and joined into the hallway’s traffic, a person bumped into her.

“Hey! Ouch! Watch where you’re going.” Cassie called out, stumbling back a few feet. Map and schedule were scattered on the floor, along with the other person’s notebook and binder.

Upon crouching down to clean the mess, she noticed it was Abed who knocked right into her. Without saying much, he gathered their belongs in a neat pile. Standing back up he hand over her map and schedule.

“Oh, thanks,” Cassie mumbled, hot embarrassment creeping up her neck. “And sorry for snapping at you. It’s a pulse reaction.”

“No worries. Janis always looks out for Cady, even when she starts to become a mean girl.”

“Right,” Cassie poked his chest with her papers, a teasing grin forming, “you’re my Janis. Got it.”

“Cool cool cool.”

He stared at her for a moment, then left without another word.

“Weird,” Cassie muttered. “But nice. A weird nice.”

* * *

“—so Abed must have switched them when we bumped into each other,” Cassie concluded. “That is the only way.”

“She’s right. I did.”

The group jumped, Abed standing at the end of the booth, lunch tray in hand.

“Abed! Don’t sneak up on us like that,” Britta’s hand jumped to her chest, “you scared the crap out of me.”

He gave a small shrug, not bothered in the slightest by upsetting his friend. Instead he turned to Cassie and Jeff. “I did use the slight of hand to switch the schedules. Cassie has a habit of being so lost in her own thoughts, she’s not observant enough of her surroundings.”

“Hey! I’m plenty observant!”

“Really?” Abed asked. “Then why haven’t you noticed someone stuck a ‘kick me’ sign to your back?”

Cassie whipped around, finally spotting the piece of paper slapped on to her back from the corner of her eye.

“What the hell?” Wiggling around, she tried to grab the paper off her back. However after stretching and twisting around she still had no luck.

Taking pity on her, Jeff tore the sign off her back.

Raspy laughter passed by their table. “Sucks to be you Winger Jr.!” Leonard blew a raspberry at Cassie.

“I don’t even know you!” She cried out, but Leonard was already chatting with some of the hipsters, oblivious to the annoyed teen.

Paper crumpled in his hand, Jeff crushing the crudely written note. Not even on campus for twenty-four hours and she was already the target of bullying. Not concerning bullying of course—this was Leonard, he could barely remember where the bathroom was located…on a good day—but bullying nonetheless.

Jeff expected better, but honestly he wasn’t surprised.

Cassie wasn’t the most observant, as Abed so bluntly put, often stuck in her own daydreams and thoughts. Not to the extreme of Abed, but enough for her to not always be aware of her surroundings. A couple of scraped knees and rolled ankles throughout her childhood were evidence of her less than stellar awareness.

Spotting Leonard’s familiar balding head in the distance, he chucked the paper at its bullseye.

“ _Ow_!”

“Don’t mess with my daughter, Leonard!” Jeff yelled back.

Meanwhile, Cassie faced the eager and unapologetic faces of the study group. “As much as I appreciate the gesture of inviting me into the study group, I’d have to pass.”

“What?” Annie’s shoulder slumped, disappointment shinning back.

“Why?” Leaning forward, Britta dropped her voice lower, as though Jeff wouldn’t be able to hear her. “You know you don’t have to do this to make your dad happy, right? You can stand up to the man.”

“I don’t want to be in the study group,” Cassie repeated. “I genuinely don’t. Just because I am not in the study group doesn’t mean I won’t see you guys around…” She shrugged a shoulder up. She tried to break the news gently, seeing as the study group happened to be an overly emotional and sentimental bunch. A delicate hand was of the essence. “I mean, Greendale isn’t _that_ big and I’ll see you guys whenever you hang out with Dad so…” She titled her head side to side. “I think me not being in the group will allow some healthy distance between everyone,” she glanced over at Jeff, who seemed surprised but moved by her decision, “especially between me and my dad. After all, I don’t want to cramp his style.”

“You are not ‘cramping my style’! No one uses that phrase, Cassie,” he grumbled, finally digging into his spaghetti and meatballs.

“Says you,” Britta challenged.

Gritting his teeth, Jeff focused on his plate of semi-edible food. He wasn’t going to be dragged into this ludicrous argument. It was pointless to argue Cassie was ‘cramping his style’ when he hardly saw her at all throughout the day. Except when they carpooled in the morning, and now seeing her at lunch with the rest of the group, and then three other times he passed her in the hall on the way to class—all of three of which he ignored her and she ignored him and yeah, his daughter ignoring hurt more than he thought it would, but acknowledgment was a two way street.

If anyone was cramping anybody’s style it was he was cramping Cassie’s.

A horrible thought, really.

After all, she was already targeted by Leonard because she was ‘Winger Jr.’.

How many other students on Greendale’s campus saw her simply as ‘Winger Jr.’?

Jeff didn’t want to know.

With a huff, he dropped his fork on to his plate an slid out of the booth. “I need to get going. See you losers at four,” his eyes leapt from his study group members to his daughter, “and I’ll see you at six to go home.”

He left before any other arguments could be made and he got roped into a conversation about how ‘styles can be cramped.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :)


	5. Ethics of Schedules & Nepotism ~ Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and commented on the first couple of chapters! It means so much <3
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D

* * *

On her first day of classes Cassie learned a few things about Greendale:

  1. _Don’t ask about the black mold everyone seems to bemoan about._



Seriously don’t ask because no one has the answer. No one. Not even the dean.

  1. _There is a strange hook-up and gossip culture at Greendale._



After mistaking a brother and sister for a couple in her sociology class, and then doing it again instead this time mistaking a couple for brother and sister in her Collage class, Cassie realized it was better not to ask anyone really anything about their personal relationships unless they offered information willing. Be damn trying to make small talk and build friendships in the likes of Greendale’s oddness. The vague incestuous undertones of certain couples and cliques gave her enough of a stomach churn for her to avoid them all together.

And then there was the fact the hashtags and tagging of Greendale’s official Twitter seemed to be at _Gossip Girl_ levels of absurd.

But that was another beast Cassie didn’t even want to bother understanding.

  1. _Half the professors where either under the influence or certifiably insane_.



After her first class, Ethic of Twilight & Triangles, Cassie asked for a syllabus. A genuine question considering it was the first day of classes and she wanted to get a head start on assignments.

Her professor laughed in her face and then left.

Literally nothing else happened.

Her sociology class was only marginally better, with a real syllabus, but her professor turned on _Bill Nye the Science Guy_ halfway through class and began day drinking.

  1. _Everyone—_ literally everyone _—hated her dad’s study group. And now by default, her._



Honestly, how did the study group remain none the wiser to the animosity and hate projected their way? How did they not know the betting pools and rumors their fellow student mumbled and spread like wildfire about them? How did they not know after every single pleasant and polite smile, a sneer of annoyance was quick to replace?

How were her father and his friends this oblivious?

Cassie had no idea, but she knew it was definitely a file to keep open in the back of her mind because it was more than a little concerning.

  1. _Shenanigans happen. All the time. Don’t question it_.



For half of her first day Cassie was positive her dad became the editor of the school newspaper, the _Greendale Gazette Journal_ , for part of the day and somehow no longer held the position by the time late afternoon rolled around. She wasn’t too sure how that came to be, only catching brief recaps and snippets from his friends when she had her apparently rigged-and-switched classes with them.

Hell, now that she thought about it, Cassie had her own round of shenanigans!

Well…mild, not odd or entertaining shenanigans, but enough to warrant a ‘flashback’ as Abed so kindly put when he found her waiting at one of the study tables outside of the study room after a rather loud and aggressive (she was positive her dad had thrown some random dude out of the room) session.

“You can have your own subplots,” Abed explained to her.

“Subplots?” Cassie pushed her reading glasses higher on her nose. “What do you mean by subplots?”

“Subplots; where you can go on your own adventures with us or one on your own.” He nodded once, eyes drifting into thought. “Have your own motives and character growth. You aren’t just a throw away character or one added for the sake of adding depth to Jeff.”

“Thank… you?” Cassie had never been told she was a ‘character’ or was given the ‘okay to have character growth.’ But she heard enough from her dad to know the best way to handle Abed was to go along with him; listen and _lightly_ engage. Key word: lightly.

“You are your own person, Cassie,” Abed continued, “but I am not too sure yet what arc-type you may be. I think you might be our straight guy, especially since Jeff seems to be migrating towards reluctant hero-slash-rebel with a heart of gold. But perhaps you’ll surprise us.” He shrugged a shoulder. “But I highly doubt you’ll be a love interest, unless…” His eyes locked on her. “Do you wear soft sweaters?”

“Occasionally, but I am more of a long sleeve, t-shirts, and cardigan type of person?”

“Darn,” he mumbled, but nodded in understanding. “Definitely coming-of-age then.”

“Okay—” Cassie paused, blinking as she tried to wrap her head around Abed’s theories. “Thank you, uh, Abed. For sharing with me that I uh…”

“Matter,” he supplied, “you matter to the story. We’re an ensemble. You should embrace it more than try to fight it. Join the study group so we don’t have any more characters like Buddy trying to become main cast.”

Cassie didn’t know how to respond to the request, but she assured Abed she’d consider it.

However the interaction did not stop Cassie from bringing up the oddness of Greendale to her father during dinner that night at Nana Doreen’s.

“Is it always like that at Greendale?”

“Always like what?” He dad shot back, more focused on cutting off the crusts of his grilled cheese sandwich rather than talking to her. “Annoying? Insane? Headache inducing?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Cassie agreed readily. She glanced over to the kitchen where Nana was still stirring the tomato soup and adding last minute ingredients, the comfort food not yet ready despite the platter of grilled cheese sandwiches sitting in the center of the dining table. Nana had insisted they come over for dinner after their first day of classes. She was naturally concerned for both Cassie and Jeff, her usual once a week dinners bumped up to two to three a week due to her son’s lying tendencies and her dislike for his ‘no-carb’ diet.

Neither Cassie or Jeff argued over the new arrangement; better to agree and nod with Nana Doreen than face her wrath and all too slick comebacks.

So on Mondays, Thursdays, and Sundays the Wingers had the utter joy (read: _agony_ ) to have dinner together like one small happy family.

“I felt like I lived a month in one day with all the chaos of—of everything happening around me.” Cassie frowned as she watched her dad once against struggle to get all the crust off his sandwich. Huffing, she dragged his plate over to her and snatched the knife from his grasp.

“Hey!”

“I cannot watch this atrocity any longer.” With ease, she cut his crusts off and dumped the little crumbs on to her awaiting plate. “Honestly I don’t think the crusts add that much more carbs, but whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She shoved the plate back to her dad, Jeff staring down at his nicely cut grilled cheese sandwich with sad fondness that had nothing to do with the impending intake of carbs and cheese. “Cas, I know Greendale is…” he rolled his eyes, “…Greendale—that’s sort of the reason I didn’t want you to go there. The weirdness sucks you in and you have no choice but to hold on until the ride ends. Whenever that may be.”

“I am starting to see that,” Cassie mumbled between a piece of toasted crust. 

“That is kind of why I don’t want you to get involved with the study group.”

“Not because I am cramping your style?”

Jeff scowled at the phrase. “No, not because of that moron, but because being associated with me and the group will hinder,” he seemed slightly unsure of the word choice, but rolled with it, “your experience. Do you really want to be known as ‘Winger Jr.?’”

It was then Cassie realized maybe her father’s hesitation and reservations of her involvement with his study group and attendance at Greendale had nothing to do with ‘cramping his style’ but maybe—

“Dad,” she leaned forward, lowering her voice, “you don’t think _you_ are cramping _my_ style, do you?”

“What?” He raspberried, scoffed, then rolled his eyes. All classic deflections. “No! No, I do not think that Cassandra.”

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t care about being known as your kid. Or being teased by the likes of Leonard because I’m ‘Winger Jr.’”

“Leonard is geriatric idiot.”

“Of course he is,” Cassie shrugged a shoulder, “I know that so it doesn’t matter to me if he sticks a ‘kick me’ sign on my back. In fact, it’s seems to me like it is just another, average Greendale mini annoyance. Like the study group and passing you in the hallway.”

The corner of Jeff’s mouth twitch, a smile threatening to break through. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

“That is why I think…maybe I will join the study group.”

“You don’t have to,” her father assured her, “what those co-dependent dweebs did to your schedule was dumb and wrong.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell her father maybe he was also a ‘co-dependent dweeb.’ He was already in a put out mood over the shenanigans of the day and being forced to have dinner with Nana Doreen, who asked way too many questions about his life at Greendale he never felt entirely comfortable answering. Cassie knew she needed to save that revelation for another day.

“Yeah, it was and I am still not completely into any of them. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But I think I know how to fix this and still have a reason to be in the study group besides through nepotism.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Alright you two, the soup is ready,” Nana Doreen came over to the table, serving pot in hand. She placed the pot in the center of the dining table, right beside the platter of grilled cheese sandwiches; partially obstructing Cassie and Jeff’s view of each other. She sat down at the head of the table and started to make up her own plate, in a near giddy mood. “Cassie did you know this was your father’s favorite comfort food when he was little?”

“I had no idea,” Cassie confessed, sending a bemused look her dad’s way.

Jeff’s scowl began to emerge, but he hampered it down and forced a kind smile. A classic mama’s boy to a fault.

“Yup,” he uttered. “My favorite.” His terseness went straight over Nana Doreen’s head, she humming happily as they each began to serve themselves.

“Sometimes I’d use the cookie cutters and cut the grilled cheese into fun little shapes.” Doreen gave herself a good helping of soup, her bowl nearly filled to the brim. “He’s never liked the crusts.”

“I know. He still cuts them off whenever he has a sandwich.”

Nana Doreen chuckled. “Some things never change, huh, Jeffery?” She barreled through the slip of silence, attention jumping to Cassie. “How was the first day? Did you make any new friends?” Her eyes leapt to Jeff. “Did you introduce her to your friends? Show her around?”

Nope. No. Not all. He didn’t really do anything but let her fend for herself, which was fine but both knew Nana Doreen wouldn’t be too pleased to learn the truth. She hadn’t been too pleased—mostly hurt, emotional, and disappointed when Jeff’s lies came to light—in the past. “Uh—”

“Yeah, he did,” Cassie lied through her teeth, sending a bright smile to her dad. “Isn’t that right, Dad?”

“We had a great father-daughter first day, isn’t that right kiddo?” He gamely went along with the little white lie.

“Couldn’t have been better.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Doreen praised, digging into her food, “I was so worried with the thought of Cassie being around older adults—no offense Jeffery—but maybe this will be a nice family bonding situation. How many kids get to say they went to college with their parents?”

“Not many,” Jeff interjected before Cassie could make a remark. “Not many at all. We sure are special.”

For a fleeting moment, Cassie really did believe her father shared the sentiment.

* * *

After their morning Starbucks run (her dad paid this time _—“How about we rotate? You one day and me the next?”_ ) Cassie made her way over to the administration office with her hijacked schedule in hand, along with her a newly written schedule form with the correct classes and codes filled out.

Upon reaching the reception desk, Cassie passed her new schedule form to the secretary. The older woman scanned the form, humming as she clicked and clacked away the changes on the keyboard.

However two minutes later the woman frowned, passing the form back.

“You have an impacted class on here.”

The class—Spanish 101—was circled in bright red pen.

Cassie pushed the form back.

“Yes, I know,” Cassie gave her best, charming smile, “but I was wondering if I can speak to Dean Pelton about that.”

The woman pointed to the laminated sign on the counter.

_NO IMPACTED CLASS EXCEPTIONS._

_APPLY NEXT SEMESTER. GOOD LUCK._

Cassie sighed and stood up taller, at least as tall as her meager height of five-foot-two would allow. “Yes. I see that there is a policy, but I was wondering if I can speak to Dean Pelton,” she tried again, her charming smile strained, “seeing as I am Jeff Winger’s daughter—”

The dean’s office door swung open with a bang.

“Cassandra Isobel Winger?” Dean Pelton gasped in wonder, a hand pressed to his chest. “Daughter of the one and only Jeffery Tobias Winger?”

“Uh,” Cassie’s eyes darted between the secretary to the dean, “yes? But how do you know my dad’s middle name—”

The dean came forward, walking around the receptionist desk to Cassie, gaze set and determined. He turned to his secretary, imploringly. “What seems to be the problem here, Linda?”

“She wants to sign up for an impacted class. Spanish 101.”

Dean Pelton hummed, glancing down at the form before turning back to Cassie. “Usually we don’t allow more students into a class once it’s impacted. More students means more pay for teachers and Greendale isn’t about to waste it’s dance fund on more classes,” he tutted.

Chewing the inside of her check, Cassie knew she had to use her only leverage in this situation. “But you see, my dad—Jeff,” she added for good measure; the dean perked at the mention of her father, “is in Spanish 101 and it would mean a lot—a lot, a lot—if I could have the class with him. Since you know, he is my dad and we are family and I just want to be closer to him.”

“Stop.” The dean held his hand up before her. He inhaled deeply, tears pooling in his eyes. “Just stop. Say no more Cassandra.” He spun back to Linda, furious and flustered. “Do you not hear this girl? All she wants is to have a class with her father!”

“But it’s impacted—”

“Give it to her, Linda!” Dean Pelton hastily wiped under his eyes, inhaling sharply once more. “Give Cassandra Winger whatever she wants. I override the impact rule.” He turned back to Cassie, arms stretched. One step at a time he walked into her space until he could carefully rest his head on Cassie’s shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, bringing her into a full pressured hug. “A child shall be with her father. I cannot stand in the way of family.”

“Uh, thank you,” Cassie craned her neck away from the hug, the dean clutching her for longer than deemed necessary, “I appreciate it.”

He pulled away, however his hands remained clamped on her shoulders. “Whatever you need Cassandra, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay.” With great effort she pried herself out of his grasp, practically slipping to the floor to avoid him. Dusting herself, Cassie sent a small polite smile to him and to Linda-the-secretary. “Thank you again.”

“No problem. We’ll take care of it right away and you’ll be able to start sitting in class today!”

“Great,” she nodded once, backing away from the dean. She didn’t want to be ambushed into another hug. “Have a nice day.” Once she was out in the hallway, Cassie dashed away, hurrying along to her first class of the day.

* * *

“And that’s when I told my landlord to suck it—he can’t increase my rent!” Britta slammed her hand on the table. The group flinched just the slightest, but did not seem too shocked by the outburst. Britta was Britta after all.

“However he can,” Jeff had to burst her bubble, “because you were the idiot who signed a lease that said he can—”

“No one asked for your lawyer opinions, Jeff,” Britta grumbled.

“But Jeff’s right,” Annie motioned to him with the end of her purple pen, “you did sign a lease that gave your landlord every right to increase the rent be it you decided to bring in more pets than your initial contract stated.” She mulled over the situation, head tilting side to side. “If you think about it, your landlord was smart to add that clause when your lease went up because of your habit of adopting strays.”

“I was saving an innocent kitten from slaughter!” Britta huffed, looking around the table for allies. She immediately locked on Shirley, perhaps believing the woman would take her side on the matter. “Kittens shouldn’t be killed, right? _Innocent_ kittens?”

“All God’s creatures should be cherished,” Shirley paused, voice lowering, “but you do know animals don’t have souls, right?”

“Ah! How can you say that?” Britta yelped. “Animals _so_ have souls.”

“But do they _really_?” Troy mused. “Animals have personalities, I guess. They have love in their eyes and evil too, but I also don’t feel bad about eating a hamburger,” he shrugged, undeterred by the idea of eating ground beef. “But I guess I can see the problem if you are best friends with the animal.”

“You never read _Charlotte’s Web_ as kid, huh?” Jeff asked, amused by Troy’s seemingly innocent reality of animals.

“Of course he did,” Annie argued, almost offended by his accusation, “everyone did. Right Troy?”

“Is _Charlotte’s Web_ the one with the girl with the pig nose?” Pierce asked, chiming into the conversation, a half laugh in his suggestion.

“No, you’re thinking _Penelope_ ,” Abed corrected, “the 2006 rom-com with Christina Ricci and James McAvoy.” He turned his attention back on Troy. “ _Charlotte’s Web_ is a book where a pig befriends a spider and a little girl.”

“And it has a fantastic commentary on politics, freedom of speech, and anarchy!” Britta threw her fist in the air. “Down against the suffocating man! Let pigs over throw the government, see how that feels.”

“Britta, I think you are thinking _Animal Farm_ ,” Annie corrected. “Where the pig overthrows the farmer and leads a rebellion? Ringing any bells?”

“Is this another book in high school I was supposed to read, but didn’t?” Troy asked.

“Probably,” Jeff said, “I’m pretty sure I bought the _CliffNotes_ for that one.”

“ _CliffNotes_?” Britta repeated. “I see your cheating tendencies started young.”

“ _CliffNotes_ isn’t cheating,” Shirley was quick to defend, “sometimes it is needed as a study guide.”

“Shirley are you saying you used _CliffNotes_ in high school too?” Britta challenged. “Because I am pretty sure most people bought _CliffNotes_ to avoid reading the books they were assigned.”

“Can some please explain to me what are _CliffNotes_?” Troy cried out, clearly unable to follow the reference.

“ _CliffNotes_ are like _Sparknotes_ except in pamphlet form,” Abed explained. “They came into popularity in the eighties and nineties for high school students as a way to avoid reading full novels, hence only Jeff, Britta, and Shirley knowing the reference.”

“Hey!” Britta called out. “Don’t lump me with them,” she motioned to Jeff and Shirley, “I never used _CliffNotes_.”

“Because you dropped out of high school before you needed them instead?” Jeff’s smirk was met with a crumpled paper to the face.

“Oh,” Troy huff a small chuckle, “so it has nothing to do with an actual cliff, right?”

“Right,” Abed assured him.

A companionable silence fell over the group, a nice lull in the conversation before another topic or story could be thrown on the table.

“Do any of you do any _actual_ studying in here?”

“ _Ah_!”

All seven jumped, eyes snapping to the _usually_ open seat between Jeff and Annie at the table.

Instead, Cassie sat there, eyes wide and jaw unhinged in utter flabbergast.

“What are you doing here?” Jeff snapped, leaning away. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be in class?”

“No,” she looked from him to the rest of the stunned group, “I actually switched up my schedule. For the third time. And did the thing I said I’d do. Remember at dinner?”

Jeff’s eyes widened. Obviously he didn’t think she’d follow through.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Britta asked.

“Long enough to know you should read contracts to completion with the presence of a lawyer or a paralegal.” Her eyes darted to Troy, who shrunk under her gaze. “Troy has never read _Charlotte’s Web_ nor has watched the recent film adaptation with Dakota Fanning,” then to Pierce, “Pierce has probably never watched anything made in this decade or possibly the last,” then to a guilty looking Shirley, “Shirley uses _CliffNotes_.” She hesitated over Annie. “Annie actually read _Animal Farm_ and understood it in comparison to everyone else at this table, who hasn’t—excluding me of course.” She paused, opening and closing her mouth. Taking a moment to sit and observe really was revealing to the group; maybe she was seeing what everyone else at the school gossiped about—the exclusivity, the lack of actual learning, the need to be witty and snarky. “And long enough to realize maybe this study group is more like a Sundae Social, minus the sundaes and give or take the social.”

“We study!” Annie flicked open her textbook on its last bookmarked page. “But we have fun while doing it!”

“We don’t have fun while doing it,” Jeff countered, “but we do it if it’s completely necessary—” Annie sent him a stern mouth glare, “—which it is! Like right now…”

He at least had the inkling to open up his own textbook. The rest of the group followed suit.

“Good,” Cassie dropped her own copy of the textbook on the table, “because I just transferred into Spanish with the rest of you. I guess I can _really_ join the study group now.”

“Really? You okay with your kid cramping your style, Winger?”

“We’re Stud-Buds times two now!”

“How nice!”

“Now the female to male ratio in this group is even.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” Abed looked directly at Cassie. “You took my advice. You embraced the ensemble.”

“Yeah,” Cassie gave a small shrug, sharing a quiet smile with Abed, “I guess I did in my own way.”

“We have so much to catch you up on,” Annie flew into high gear, prepared to tackle being Cassie right hand woman in all things Spanish. “I can make you copies of my notes and we can plan one-on-one study sessions so we can make sure you are up to speed—”

“Annie,” Jeff’s easy and warm tone stopped her, the other girl having his full attention, “I’m sure Cassie can keep up, she wouldn’t join the class if she couldn’t.”

“But I appreciate the gesture,” Cassie was sure to add, even if she didn’t really mean it, “I can always use more notes.”

Annie perked up. “Great!” She turned to the rest of the group, doing a quick check of her watch. “We have a half hour left before class, let’s all make sure to study those conjugants for the quiz today.”

Murmurs of agreement sounded off, the group descending into silent studying as the seconds waned on.

A forced silence.

Forced and struggling silence, the energy in the room brimming to break.

Before Cassie could even turn to the second page—

Britta’s book snapped shut. “But he really can’t raise my rent, right?”

An eruption of groans and grumbled answers filled the study room, voices and words overlapping as the previous conversation was resurrected without missing a beat.

Looking up from her textbook, Cassie watched the conversation easily bobbed back and forth between the study group members, their repertoire in motion like a well-oiled machine.

Biting her lips together, Cassie dropped her gaze back down her textbook staring hard at the glossy paper.

Perhaps joining the ‘ensemble’ was harder than Abed made it sound. But she’d try in time, for now Cassie was content to simply listen, a mere fly on the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassie will find her groove with the group soon! I have some moments planned out the next few chapters that are fun :)
> 
> And for those who are wondering how Cassie will act concerning Jeff's love life...next chapter will be the chapter for you, lol!
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers!


	6. The Third Resident Conundrum ~ Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Interpretive Dance. 
> 
> Warning: Cursing. Because I believe some of these characters would curse a whole lot more irl, lol.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later. Enjoy :D

* * *

When a scarcely clothed woman stepped out of her dad’s room, it took Cassie about five seconds to realize it was Greendale’s resident Statistics professor, Michelle Slater.

Upon recognition, it takes exactly two-point-five seconds for Cassie to determine how to proceed. This was not her first rodeo and this certainly would not be her last.

“Good morning!” Cassie called out from her spot at the breakfast nook, coffee in hand.

“ _Oh_!” Slate shudder in shock, grasping the doorframe for balance. “Oh god. I didn’t know anyone else was here, I—” Her fear-ridden rambling stops, the situation before her finally sinking in. “Um, I’m sorry, but who are you and why are you in my boyfriend’s apartment?”

Cassie’s eyebrows shot up at the term ‘boyfriend.’ Her dad had mentioned Slater in passing, labeled as his current ‘hook-up’ and ‘lady friend.’ Never once had the obnoxious, chain-and-ball term ‘girlfriend’ been utter from the man in relation to Michelle Slater.

“A better question is why are you in my apartment,” she relished in the dumbfounded look marred on Slater’s face before continuing, “and I was literally in your Stats class for two days,” Cassie added, nose wrinkled.

Slater’s brows furrowed, eyes narrowing on Cassie. She shifted from foot to foot, the shirt she obviously stole from Jeff not doing much to hide her body. “That’s why you look so familiar.”

Cassie took a sip of her coffee, swinging her fuzzy slipper clad feet in open air below her barstool. “I’m Cassie—Jeff’s daughter.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.” She beamed at Slater’s disgruntled reaction.

“He never mentioned he had a daughter. Let alone one who is…” she motioned to all of Cassie, “…older.”

“He’s not one to share about that kind of thing,” Cassie stood up from the barstool and made her way over to the coffee pot, refilling her cup of coffee to the brim, “but like I said, we’ve met before. I was in your Stats class for two days in the beginning of the semester? My last name is ‘Winger.’”

“I thought it was a misprint,” Slater confessed, stepping further into the room. “You and Jeff don’t necessarily look alike.” Her eyes drifted to Cassie’s dark, wavy hair and shorter stature.

“I get some of my looks from my mom,” Cassie stated plainly, not in the mood to explain how genetics and Punnett Squares worked to a full, grown adult. “My dad didn’t mention you’d be staying over.”

“I usually don’t.” Slater seemed to grow more confident with each passing second, walking into the kitchen like she owned the place. “We’re usually at mine.” However her bravado faltered as she stared at the series of cabinets. She opened and closed the overhanging cabinets, coming up short on mugs.

Back in her spot at the breakfast nook, Cassie watched as the woman struggled to find a mug for coffee. She didn’t once look to the girl for help, seemingly determined to find the appropriate glass on her own.

After three minutes, Slater finally opened the right cabinet—the small cubby tucked below, right by where the unofficial coffee station was located on the counter. An obvious spot, but clearly not obvious to Michelle Slater. “This must be unsettling for you,” she finally said, pouring coffee into one of the few nondescript mugs they owned. While her dad was not one for novelty, Cassie made it a habit to gift him a ridiculous-yet-thoughtful mug year after year on his birthday, mugs he used daily in the privacy of their home.

“Unsettling how?”

“Seeing another woman in your home,” Slater said, attempting a gentle tone. Despite her efforts, she sounded more condescending than anything near pleasant. “Seeing your father date someone you see around campus.”

“For the record, you are not the first woman my father has dated since my mother—not by a long shot. Other women have been in around, in my presence, in situations just like this,” Cassie waved to Slater, who had taken to leaning against the counter opposite her, “to say it is ‘unsettling’ is to say I don’t acknowledge the fact my dad is a sexually active adult. The only thing ‘unsettling’ is the fact you think that coffee is free.”

Slater paused, mid-sip. “Excuse me?”

“Seeing as you are sleeping with my father and are going to be popping up here from time to time, I can only assume you will be drinking my coffee and you’d want me to be mum on the little fact you are doing the hanky-panky with a student.”

The mug was set down with a clang. “What are you saying?”

“You can have all the coffee you want in this apartment and my silence on the Greendale campus, if you pay a fee,” Cassie explained, laying down the offer like it was a simple decision.

“A fee?”

“A fee,” Cassie hopped off the barstool, standing to her full height, “about twenty-five dollars—”

“Monthly? That’s not too bad—”

“Bi-monthly,” the girl corrected before the woman could get ahead of herself. “Bi-monthly and I am none the wiser of the little late night rendezvous you engage in, plus the coffee.”

Slater’s eyes narrowed, not at all charmed by the sight of Cassie Winger. “You are a conniving little b—"

“Michelle, is that you?” The sound of the master bedroom door opening caused all foul words to cease, Slater giving Cassie a bright smile.

The girl rolled her eyes and turned back to the coffee pot, refilling her cup and slipping away into her bedroom, just off the kitchen.

Slater was just like the rest of them. Far too confident, far too insecure, and far too… _blech_ to be considered anything other than a serial fling for her father. She could see how it was fun for her dad—an unobtainable woman, someone who was commanding—or at least seemed commanding on the surface—perhaps a woman who’d be willing to have fun and then move on. Jeff was all about moving on, keeping the gears going and not stay with one woman for long.

_“You and Nana Doreen are the only permanent women I need in my life, Cassie_ ,” he so liked to remind her whenever a fling or hook-up had it’s inevitable demise. She wasn’t too sure if he was more convincing himself than her, but she took the remark at face value.

Cassie considered she should be appalled or offended by his ways—the voice telling her so sounded far too much like Britta—but the fact of the matter was, Jeff wasn’t always like that.

He did try with her mom. Over and over and over _—“Maybe Miranda has changed this time,”_ a phrase far too often thrown around when her mother decided to make an impromptu visit during her youth.

Her dad tried to make things work many times until he just couldn’t any more.

And then he didn’t date anyone. For a long time.

It wasn’t until she was older, just out of middle school, did the revolving door of women became a common occurrence. Meeting women in the early hours of the morning, scaring the shit out of them, getting her money’s worth on coffee.

Cassie wasn’t an idiot and Jeff wasn’t always ‘womanizer,’ but that didn’t mean it made his lack of commitment any less disappointing.

* * *

“So…Slater?” Cassie finally breeched the subject as Jeff turned on to campus. The parking lot was already filled with student and faculty, parking spots scarce.

“What do you mean ‘Slater’?”

Cassie scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. I saw her this morning.”

A smirk formed on Jeff’s lips. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention that.”

“Yeah, apparently she didn’t know you had a kid. Does she listen to any of the Greendale gossip?”

“She’s above Greendale gossip.”

“But you’re not above sleeping with your teacher?” Cassie shot back, letting her disappointment be known.

“Cassie,” Jeff sighed, turning with the curve of the parking lot traffic, “you’ve seen the slim pickings here.” He waved to the passing students in the lot and quad, all of which were various ages—from young eighteen year old’s to retirement home guppies, like Leonard. “They are all lost souls who’ve clearly done something wrong with their life, or they are just bidding their time until they can transfer the hell out of here.” The traffic inched forward, Jeff following along as he spoke. “I need someone who is not like the rest of Greendale. Who is professional and put together.” The ‘ _like me’_ went unspoken, Cassie knowing exactly how her father thought.

“And you think for the time being that’s Slater?” Cassie didn’t see how that was possible. Though her interactions be few with Slater, she could say without a doubt there was something off about the woman, even if her dad could not see it.

“Yeah, it can be.”

“You do realize you _are_ one of the students who has clearly done something wrong with his life and Slater is choosing to have an affair with you, _a student._ What does that say about her?”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

The car doors unlocked. “Don’t you have a morning class to get to?” he asked, knowing fully well her first class of the day on Wednesdays was Spanish, with him. He clicked off her seatbelt, then reached past her to the passenger door handle. He flung open the door with as much force as possible. “You know the drill, kid. Tuck and roll! Tuck and roll!”

“What are you talking about? Tuck and ro—? _Hey_!”

Shoving her messenger bag into her arms, Jeff pushed Cassie out of the Lexus.

The girl tumbled out, her messenger bag breaking her fall on to the asphalt.

Pushing herself up, she whirled back to Jeff. “What the hell? Are you a toddler, shoving me?”

“A toddler who can fucking drive away,” Jeff declared, reaching across once more and shutting the door. Revving up the engine, he inched forward once more, the traffic in the parking lot still at it’s ever constant standstill.

Huffing, Cassie pulled herself up, dusting off her jeans and sweater. She should have expected a tantrum like this; she poked a tender spot—aka attending Greendale—and provoked the bear—aka Jeff’s moodiness.

“Did I just see Jeff push you out of a moving car?”

Looking up from adjusting the trap of her messenger bag, Cassie found Britta standing less than five feet away, brows furrowed.

“The car technically wasn’t moving,” Cassie corrected, pulling her hair back in a small, high ponytail. Wisps fell down, her hair still not quite long enough to form a full ponytail. “It was at a standstill. My dad would never push me out of a real moving vehicle.”

“O-kay…that does make me feel any better,” Britta mumbled, “but if you’re not concerned, then I guess I’m not concerned?”

“Right,” Cassie nodded, “the only thing you should be concerned about is the fact he’ll be in a bad mood for most of the day.”

Britta’s nose wrinkled. “Ew.”

“Yeah. Nothing we can do to fix that.” Walking out of the parking lot, Cassie joined Britta on the sidewalk, the two beginning to make their way towards the study room. “Hey, what’s the second bag for?” Cassie nodded to the second little duffle bag slung over Britta’s shoulder. “Got a costume change or something?”

“It’s _nothing_!” Britta screeched, clutching the bag to her chest. She wheezed, eyes wide and manic. “Gosh, Cassie you cannot go around asking what’s in people’s bags!”

With that, Britta hurried away, leaving Cassie stunned and frozen in her place. “I was trying to make conversation?” she said to no one. She was two for two so far for making the people in her life upset, a new record.

Ignoring the strange encounter with Britta, Cassie began to head to her morning class. She planned on ditching the ‘unofficial’ morning study group meeting; most of the time it was just an excuse for the group to meet up and chat before continuing for the rest of the day, despite the fact their official study time was at five o’clock.

Cassie simply did as the schedule Annie gave her indicated, even if it was once again ‘unofficial;’ she was encouraged to follow all suggested meeting times.

Just as she was about to pass the study room without stop, Cassie’s phone buzzed.

** Annie  **

mting @ 9!!!

“How the hell—”

Looking up from her phone, Cassie found Annie watching her like a hawk from the library window. A stubborn frown marred her forehead and lips, Annie reminding her of her disappointed ballet teachers from her childhood. There was no running away from such a stare.

Well damn, Cassie was well and thoroughly caught in the act.

Huffing, she turned on her heel, trekked up the library steps, and entered the study room, resigning herself to her further doom, Annie waiting with a far too perky smile for a half-hour before nine.

“Good morning Cassie! So glad you could make it!”

Cassie could never catch a break from the study groups clutches, could she?

* * *

When she signed up for a ballet class, Cassie had zero intention of telling her dad. Mostly because he’d rub it in her face how he was _right_. How he was right about the fact she still liked dancing and should have never dropped out her private classes her sophomore year of high school to ‘focus on school.’

He’d be obnoxious and annoying and remind her every single time he found the opportunity because that’s just who Jeff Winger was—an asshole, arrogant winner.

Yet as the recital loomed closer and closer, Cassie knew she had to tell him sooner or later. He had never missed a single recital; hell, she wasn’t too sure if she could perform without seeing him out in the audience silently rooting for her.

However, two days until the recital was cutting it close.

“My, my Cassandra you are simply one of the best I’ve ever seen,” Madam LeClair praised after the group of ladies finished their routine. The other students broke away, reaching for water and slipping out of their ballet shoes, while Cassie was motioned to follow along with Madam LeClair. “I’ve been meaning to ask, had you had formal training? You seem far too advanced for this class.”

Their eyes lingered on Leslie, the poor guy struggling to pull out a wedgy, the pink leotard a tad too tight on him.

“Uh, yeah,” Cassie answered, taking her eyes away from _that_ trainwreck, “I use to take lessons, but stopped about halfway through high school.”

Her teach _tsk_ ed. “You are far too talented to be wasting away in this class,” Madam LeClair argued. “When you are ready to transfer to a four year university you should look at some performing arts programs. I’ll happily give you a good word.”

“Thank you.” Cassie smiled at the gesture, stunned to be singled out, let alone offered a reference. Madam LeClair was one of the few sane ones around Greendale, just perhaps a bit too passionate in her lessons, if anything. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m just happy to be dancing again.”

“Of course dear. Now hurry along; I need to get the next group in before the hour is up.”

Not wanting to take up any more dress rehearsal time, Cassie grabbed her messenger bag and shoes, before hurrying out of the dance room and to the closest restrooms.

About halfway through changing back into her street clothes, Cassie realized why her messenger bag was so light—her Spanish textbook wasn’t in there. Believing it must have fallen out of her bag when she picked it up at ballet, she went back to the dance room.

Only to freeze when she saw the last two people she ever expected to be in dance.

“Troy? Britta?”

Both there heads whipped to the door, eyes widening. “ _Cassie_?”

However Troy seemed to whine like a child at the sight of her. “Not another person from the group knowing my secret!”

“I…” Her eyes darted between Britta and Troy, attempting to decipher the mood in the room. Both were ranging in odd degrees of horrified and elated. She took a step back. “I…didn’t see anything?”

“This is perfect!” Britta snatched Cassie’s wrist and pulled her closer. “We can all tell the group about our dance secrets together!”

“How do you even know I dance?” Cassie shot back, attempting to wiggle off Britta’s grip.

Britta’s hold tightened.

Shit. There was no getting out of this.

“You literally have pointe shoes over your shoulders.” Troy pointed to the satin ballet shoes tied together over her right shoulder, right where she slung them when she left the restroom. “Not that I know what pointe shoes look like!” He coughed casually into his shoulder, attempting some form of bravado.

With her free hand, Cassie snatched them and shoved the shoes into her bag. “No I don’t.”

“Come on Cassie,” Britta nudged her, grinning. “We can tell the group together! We can invite them to the recital—”

“I am still on the fence about telling my dad.” Cassie shot down the idea in a heartbeat. “I want to, but it’s all about mentally preparing myself for it.” Giving one good twist, she freed her arm from Britta’s stronghold. “I have zero shame in my dancing—this seems more like a ‘Britta and Troy’ thing, not a ‘Britta, Troy, and Cassie’ thing….” She slowly stepped away from the two, hoping to give a charming smile. “So I’ll just—”

Troy and Britta both reached for both her arms, tugging her back into their little circle without escape. “You are involved whether you like it or not, Cassandra.”

“I cannot let you tell the group without me telling them first,” Troy uttered, almost shrill.

“When have I ever spilled anyone’s secrets?” Cassie shot back. “I haven’t. This mouth is a lock and key.” She zipped her lips for good measure. “I am so good, I’ve known who my dad has been banging for months and not a word has slipped.”

“I knew it!” Britta snapped her fingers. “I knew he was seeing someone on the regular and that dark hair wasn’t yours! It’s too long,” she added, a bit smug with herself. Her smile then dropped, catching on to what Cassie was doing. “Hey! Don’t distract me—”

“She’s really good at that,” Troy praised, before becoming serious again. “Just promise you won’t say anything until I— _we_ ,” he corrected a shred of a second later, “are ready.”

“Fine, fine,” Cassie promise, shaking both of them off. “But honestly, this isn’t anything to hide—”

“Britta! We need our teapot!” Madam LeClair called out, breaking their little conversation.

Huffing, Britta sent both Cassie and Troy a meaningful look before running off to join her class.

Taking that as her cue to leave, Cassie grabbed her Spanish textbook—pushed off to side, against the wall, as though someone expected the person to come running for it later—and made her leave without sparing a glance to Troy.

Troy, however, wasn’t going to let her go that easy.

“Cas, wait up!” He called out, rushing to catch up with her in the hall.

“Yes?” She glanced up at him, finding a small smile directed towards her.

She quickly ducked away, hoping to appear under the pretense of watching where she walked. Acting like she didn’t see anything or feel anything.

Troy always did that—the smiling. Smiling at her like she _deserved_ a smile at all times, even if it was a small one. Cassie didn’t know what to do when Troy did that—did she smile back?

No one ever told her what to do when a guy smiled at her and it felt more than a friendly smile; rather more like a kind-hearted smile.

So in true unsure fashion, Cassie ignored his smile and gave him an unamused or uninterested frown.

“I just wanted to say uh, thanks. For not pushing the whole telling the group thing,” he muttered. He kept pace with her as they walked to her locker, even slowing down when he noticed she wasn’t walking with as must bustle as usual. “I know Britta means well, and I get it—dancing is cool. I love dancing but…” he sighed, “…it’s not something people expect me to do.”

“Right…” Cassie mumbled, attempting to be a good listening ear for Troy. “But nobody really expects anything from you here, right?”

“What?”

“Well,” she gave a small shrug, stopping in front of her locker, “you aren’t in high school anymore. No one has those expectations and the only people who have expectations are your friends and…” her nose wrinkled as Cassie unlocked her locker, she shoving her dance bag inside, “…and do their expectations really matter? I think your friends like you enough, that they wouldn’t care as much—”

Her words halted when she saw a familiar Statistics teacher leave her office across the hall.

“Excuse me, Troy. I have a business proposal to take care of.”

His face scrunched up. “A business proposal? Cassie—”

She ducked around Troy, hurrying after Slater before she disappeared around the corner.

“Excuse me,” Cassie called out, “Professor Slater!”

The woman froze. Turning on her heel, she met Cassie polite smile with one of her own. “Yes, Miss Winger? What can I help you with?”

“I was wondering if you gave any more thought to that… _problem_ I gave you?” Cassie asked, stepping closer so she didn’t have to speak as loud. Didn’t need all of Greendale in her business. “Because I’d really like an answer by the end of the week if this is going to be a serial thing.”

A smug smirk formed on Slater’s lips, arms crossed over her chest. “You’re a funny one Cassie,” she stated with a small chuckle, “I think you and I are going to need to lay some ground rules if I am going to be,” she glanced around the hall, lips pursed, “your _advisor_.”

Cassie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You see, as the adult in this situation,” Slater continued, dropping her voice lower, “I believe I have more say, and I am not going to let a child—”

“‘Child’?” Cassie echoed, offended by the phrase.

“Yes, a _child_ ,” Slater repeated, the word harsh and sharp, “bully me around like we are fighting over her favorite dolly during recess.”

“I never cared for dolls—”

“It’s a metaphor,” Slater interjected, already exasperated with the conversation, “and take this as a warning, Cassandra—you try to interfere in any way with me and your father, I am sure I can convince him that maybe college is just a little too much for his sweet, innocent little girl.”

“You wouldn’t,” Cassie gritted, hands clenched at her sides.

“Oh, I would,” her shoulder rose in a careless shrug, unbothered, “because here are the facts sweetheart—I don’t like you. I think you are an annoying little brat.”

“You don’t even know me,” Cassie was positive this was maybe only her third (?) conversation with the woman; hardly grounds to make such bold accusations, “and only my dad can call me a brat. You don’t have the right.”

“Oh I do because your father and I are getting serious about our relationship.” Slater’s stone cold stare latched on Cassie, undaunted. “Face it, you are not the only woman in Jeff’s life anymore. That little finger you have him wrapped around? Gone.”

“You’re a bitch,” Cassie blurted out. She didn’t know what else to say, stunned. None of her father’s other hook-ups had been so brash and straight-forward. They usually cowered and slipped the check under her bedroom door; they knew Cassie was the boss of the Winger household, despite all pretenses. Slater apparently wasn’t going to bend so easily. “You’re a Grade-A bitch.”

Slater muffled a bemused chuckle. “Bitches get stuff done and don’t let children get away with your brand of crap.” A perfect, polite smile replaced the unamused glare in an instant. “Glad we had this talk, Cassandra.”

Giving her a small nod, Slater continued on her way, Cassie left gob smacked in her wake.

Well, that is one way for someone to make themselves enemy number one in Cassie's book.

“I didn’t know Slater was your professor,” Troy said, coming up to Cassie. He held out her Spanish textbook, she apparently forgetting it again at her locker.

“Thanks,” Cassie tucked the book under her arm, “and she’s not.”

“Then why—”

“She wanted to know why I dropped her class.” The quick lie placid Troy, he not asking any further questions. “Come on, we need to get to the study room before Annie sends out any reminder texts.”

Of course her lie was futile, the study group getting a full view of Jeff and Slater making-out in the stacks from the library backdoor.

So much for their little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hesitant to make Slater and Cassie enemies, but alas the chapter wrote itself in that direction, lol. 
> 
> We also got a little more info on Cassie's mom 👀 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Love discussing the fic with readers!


	7. The Third Resident Conundrum ~ Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a long chapter, but the next two will be shorter as they are more falling action to this plot and transitional to the next one. 
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy :D

* * *

“Everyone this is Michelle Slater, she is my…friend. We are seeing each other.”

Cassie wanted to puke.

Luckily the rest of the group wasn’t faring any better. If anything, the study group was acting like Slater’s introduction was equivalent to a marriage proposal and Michelle was going to become their step-mom.

“…Jeff’s like our ‘Greendale Dad’ and that would make you,” Abed pointed to Michelle as his thought came together aloud, “our Greendale Mom.” He remained rather puzzled by the development, as though wondering how their show could progress with this drastic change in relationships. Murmurs of vague agreement sounded from the group, however no one seemed overjoyed by the news. “Or in Cassie’s case, real potential step-mom.”

“I’ll call her ‘Mom’ when hell freezes over.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up. “Cassie, _really_?” he hissed. His embarrassment was not lost on her.

Wiggling out of her spot on the study room sofa, squished between Troy and the armrest, Cassie stood up. Chin up and defiant, she glanced around the study group, receiving similar frowns of confusion.

“I’ll let you play this whole charade of ‘boyfriend-and-girlfriend’ and let you have your fun, but I know what’s going to happen in the end,” she told her dad with little remorse. Michelle’s jaw tightened; if she thought Cassie was going to cower at her threat, she had another thing coming. “Because I know _you_ , Dad.” She slung her messenger bag over her head, knowing she needed to make her exit before the study group could dig their nose closer to the drama _and_ before Britta and Troy declared their dance-secret to the group. She could only handle one b-plot story this week. “I know what’s going to happen because I have seen this play out over and over, and frankly I am not here for it.”

“Cassie,” Jeff warned, his eyes darting to the other members of the study group, perhaps hoping to put a pin in the matter when they didn’t have an audience, “I get this is well, news. Michelle even said it might be hard for you to adjust—”

“Really?” Cassie’s eyes snapped to Michelle, the woman acting like the picture of complacence and understanding. “Interesting.”

“Maybe we can all learn to be friends,” Michelle suggested, offering her words to the entire group.

No one seemed keen on the idea.

“Okay, I’m done with this before it gets anymore chaotic.” Cassie shuffled out from the sitting area, shoulder checking her dad on her way out. “Whoops—sorry,” she deadpanned over her shoulder.

As she left the room, she passed a power walking Dean.

“Is your father in there, Cassandra?” he asked, panting for a breath.

“Yup,” she answered without stopping her stride. A ‘thank you’ was shouted her way, but she paid no mind, more intent on getting as far away from the library as possible.

However the curious glances sent her way were enough for Cassie to at least slow down her pace. Spotting Leslie, from dance class, she darted towards him.

“Why the hell is everyone looking at me like I am poor orphan child in _Oliver!_?”

Freezing stock-still, the poor soul gapped. “Uh—uh, I don’t—”

“ _Tell me, Leslie_.”

Wordlessly, he shoved his cellphone in her face.

@hawthornewipespierce

_Jeff Winger and Prof. Slater are doing the dirty._

@vickiisnotsicki

@hawthornewipespierce _Doing the dirty? What do you mean._

@hawthornewipespierce 

@vickiisnotsicki @greendalecc JEFF AND SLATER ARE DATING YOU DUMMY.

Goddamn, Pierce!

Cassie’s eyes zeroed in on the likes—176—and retweets—152. One including Dean Craig Pelton.

Did everyone at Greendale have nothing better to do?

Just as she was about to swat Leslie’s hand away, her eyes caught another tweet on the thread in her mid-scroll—

@hawthornewipespierce

CASSIE WINGER HATES SLATER.

@hawthornwipespierce

@cassandraisobel DOESN’T WANT TO CALL HER MOM.

“How the fuck did he find my twitter?” Cassie hissed, swatting the phone away. More glances were sent her way—pitiful stares, snickers, and cringes among the sort.

Leslie shrugged. “I don’t kno—”

“It wasn’t a real question, Leslie!” Cassie scrubbed her face. “I just—I just need to get out of here.” Without saying ‘goodbye’ to her lame classmate, Cassie left the insufferable eyes of her peers and beelined straight to the parking lot.

Mid-scanning the cars lined up in desolate rows, a horrible realization hit Cassie—

She didn’t know where her dad parked.

Because he kicked her out of the car that morning. Because she called him out on his bullshit.

As if the day could get any more annoying.

“Argh!” She screeched to the sky.

“Wow, Winger—got some pipes,” Starburns praised in passing.

“Shut up, Starburns!” she grumbled to his retreating back. “Creep.”

Huffing, she squared her shoulders and marched her way out of the parking lot to the sidewalk. If she couldn’t hide out in the Lexus, at least she could leave campus where no one would bother her.

* * *

  
“I hate her! I hate her! I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!” When the potato in her had had no more skin, she set it on the chopping board and grabbed another. “I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!”

“My god Cassie, what did the spud ever do to you?”

Looking up from giant bowl of potatoes she was peeling, Cassie found her Nana Doreen watching her with concerned fascination.

“Uh—sorry,” she mumbled, setting down the peeled down potato on the chopping board along with the peeler, “I was just trying to get some of my frustrations out.”

“By pretending the potatoes were someone you…” Nana Doreen squinted at her, “…you hated?”

“Yeah…” Cassie winced. “When you put it like that, it sounds a bit deranged.”

“Just a tad.”

Great, now her Nana was going to think she was loosing her marbles. Just what she needed.

Coming over to the sink, where the slivers of potato skins sat in a wet, miserable pile, Nana picked up the extra peeler and grabbed a potato. She nodded for Cassie to do the same.

“I was surprised to see you walked here all by yourself,” Nana Doreen began, bumping her arm playfully with Cassie, “you could have called me if you needed a ride from school.”

“I know.”

“But I am more surprised to see your father wasn’t with you.” Nana Doreen set down a perfectly peeled potato on the board, not at all janky like the one’s Cassie peeled in her fury. “You two have been conjoined at the hip since you started Greendale, more so than usual.”

“I suppose,” Cassie mumbled, ducking her head away from her Nana’s perceptive eyes.

“Did something happen, Cas-Cas?”

This is where Cassie had to lie through her teeth, even though she didn’t want to. Jeff never told Nana Doreen about his lady friends, girlfriends, or anything in between. He didn’t want his mother to get attached or disappointed in his antics, hence why Jeff had sworn Cassie to secrecy on the matter. Cassie was mature enough to understand why her dad wanted to keep certain parts of his life tight-lip, but that didn’t mean she liked being put between a rock and hard place when her Nana Doreen asked seemingly innocent questions.

“Just a lousy day.”

“Does is have anything to do with your dad having a girlfriend?”

Cassie’s head snapped up. “ _What_?”

Nana Doreen huffed, dropping the peeler in the sink. “How out of it do you and your father think I am? I have the Twitter and the Facebook!” she exclaimed, getting a bit red in the face; her perfectly maintained make-up could only hide so much. “I know your handles and names on there! How else am I supposed to keep tabs on you two?”

“Nana—I, I had no idea—”

“Clearly,” Nana Doreen grumbled, flipping on the facet. She pumped a hardy amount of soap on her hand and washed away any lingering residue from the potatoes. She nudged Cassie to do the same. “I know about your father’s girlfriend and the fact that you maybe didn’t respond as kindly as you should have.”

“Nana, excuse me for saying this, but she’s terrible,” Cassie confessed, lathering her hands repeatedly. “She called me a brat, amongst other things and…and she’s just not right. Not right at all.”

Both rinsed their hands and shook off the remaining droplets. Nana Doreen passed off a kitchen towel for Cassie and grabbed one for herself.

“Cassie, let me let you in on a secret,” Nana Doreen folded the kitchen towel and set down on the counter, one hand on her hip, “no one is ever going to be perfect for your father.” She shrugged a little. “At least in your eyes no one will be.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” Nana Doreen insisted. She plucked a knife from the block and chopped the potatoes with calm finesse. “You want to know how I know? Because your father was the same way with me.” She hummed a little ditty as she chopped, thin little layers of potatoes piling up on the edge of the board. “Every single man who walked through that door could never measure up to the person your father imagined for me.”

“I don’t imagine the perfect woman for him,” Cassie argued, rolling and unrolling her sleeves. “But I can pick out the wrong ones.”

“And how do you know they are wrong?”

“Because…” Her nose wrinkled.

‘ _Because they are all a little too much like my mom_.’

Or—‘ _Because none of them are there for the long haul_.’

And—‘ _Because they all recoil at the thought of a teenage daughter_.’

“Because they want him to change,” Cassie finally settled on.

“And your father doesn’t need changing?” Nana Doreen snorted.

“They want him to change the parts of him he can’t change,” Cassie expanded, “and they shouldn’t force him to change for their sake. If he’s going to change, it’ll be on his own volition.”

She knew her dad. He was stubborn, childish, and preferred to live life according to his plans, never anyone else’s. In her life, Cassie had seen enough women try to manipulate her dad to their desires—make him a ‘domestic man,’ the doting husband who’d drop everything to aid them; perhaps some of these women thought he was already halfway there with having a kid, when the truth could not have been more opposite.

Jeff Winger was a twenty-three year old trapped in a thirty-something year old’s body. If having a kid didn’t change that particular aspect about him, a steady girlfriend sure as hell wouldn’t either.

Nana Doreen gave her a soft smile. “You know the perfect woman for him might not be someone you would handpick.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if he does meet someone at Greendale, Cassie?” Nana Doreen threw the hypothetical question into the mix. “What if it is someone younger? Closer to your age? If you aren’t okay with him dating a professor, who is age appropriate, who would you be okay with him dating?”

“I—” Cassie chewed hard on the inside of her cheek. Nana Doreen did have a point. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I just know it is _not_ Slater,” she grumbled at the name.

“Probably not,” Nana Doreen agreed, “but it is still something to think about. Your dad _is_ getting older.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Cassie chuckled. On the house computer monitor there were a few skincare articles bookmarked, along with gym blogs.

Nana Doreen chuckled along, yet kept her seriousness. “As much as you claim to know your father well, I like to think I hold that title too. I think one day he would like to get married. Maybe have another kid.”

“ _Blech_ ,” Cassie gagged, “you do realize if he had another kid, I’d be like…an adult sibling?” Her face scrunched at the thought, mellowing out the longer she mulled over the idea. “Which I guess would be kind of cool—I’d be the fun adult. The one to take my sister or brother out for fro-yo, let them hang out with me in the summer instead of with Dad or their mom. Take them on fun trips and then hand them off, back to their parents when they get annoying.” She shrugged. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad.”

Nana Doreen shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. “See? Maybe your dad finding someone wouldn’t be too terrible of an idea, huh?”

“Maybe, Nana. Maybe—”

“ _Cassandra, you better be here or else_!”

“Speak of the devil,” Nana Doreen muttered. Turning towards the door, the older woman craned her neck out for a good shout, “She’s here, Jeffery! Please stop yelling or you’ll wake the dogs!”

The yapping and howling of her rescue dogs in the den filled the house, Jeff’s annoyed mumblings of the dogs heard as he came closer to the kitchen.

“Mom, you might need to get a muzzle for that terrier—”

“He is a good boy; he doesn’t need a muzzle,” Nana Doreen hushed at her son, “they need to go for walk.” She set her knife down, sending her son and granddaughter a meaningful look. “Why don’t you two chat while I tend to the dogs, hm?”

She ducked out of the room, any arguments swallowed at her departure.

“Why don’t you tell me why I spent the last hour looking for you all over Greendale and why you haven’t been answering your phone?” Jeff demanded, not willing to beat around the bush.

“Because I was upset,” Cassie gave a half shrug, “and I didn’t want to talk to you and… I didn’t know where you parked the car?” She winced out.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “When I couldn’t find you, I figured you’d be here. But still—don’t scare me like that.”

“I figured you’d be more concerned with your girlfriend.”

“Not girlfriend,” Jeff corrected, “not anything at the moment, actually.”

“Really?” Cassie’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought…”

Jeff sighed, rubbing his neck. Exhaustion cascaded on him, he slumping against the kitchen counter in defeat. “The Dean wanted Slater and I to sign these forms to make the relationship legit in the eyes of Greendale and legal and…” A hapless shrug waved through him. “…and I felt weird calling her my girlfriend. So she ended it.”

“Oh.” Unsure if she was supposed to comfort her father or be rejoicing in light of the news, Cassie opted to pat his shoulder while flailing around for another topic. “Uh—um—wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh shut up. I know you want to be jumping for joy.” He leaned out of her reach, choosing to get a glass and whisky from the cupboard. “You don’t like Michelle. You made your stance clear as rain today and I am not going to see someone who clearly…who clearly makes you upset.”

Ugh. He was bummed about the anti-climatic end of his relationship with Slater and Cassie felt like the brat who made it happen, even if that may have not been the complete case. When her dad was bummed, whisky and _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_ became his best friends. In all honesty, Cassie wasn’t too sure she could sit through another episode of _KUWTK_ and listen to their whining for the sake of her father’s moping.

God, she was going to regret this. “Does Slater make you happy?”

Jeff paused mid-sip. He nodded once, looking down at the bottom of his glass. “I guess. Happy-ish. A nice distraction from Greendale.”

Okay, not the worthwhile answer she was looking for, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “But you like her? Or you at least like sleeping with her on the regular?”

“Yeah.” He downed the rest of his drink.

Cassie’s nose scrunched. “Then maybe that’s enough. For now. Enjoy it,” she exhaled heavily. “I’ll play nice.”

Her dad set down the glass in the sink, grabbing the sponge and dollop of soap. “Kiddo, it’s over. You don’t need to do this—it’s kind of annoying.”

“I’m serious,” Cassie didn’t know how else to convince him, “I’ll be nice. I’ll grin and bear it. Just don’t be ‘Sad Jeff’—Sad Jeff eats greasy pizza every other night and a drastic change in diet will really set back your gym goals at least a month.”

Lifting his head from the glass he was washing, he nodded. “You do have a point. Can’t set back those goals. Those are months in the making right there.”

“Exactly,” Cassie lightly punched his shoulder, “so fix things with her. Maybe not right now. But soon.”

“Yeah…” he sighed, considering the idea, “I might.”

“Good.” Cassie grinned.

“Maybe I’ll take her to the dance recital on Friday. To see Britta,” he paused, “and _you_.”

Cassie’s pulse leapt. “What!”

Water droplets were flicked at her, followed by a damp towel. “Why didn’t you tell me you signed up for ballet?” His once downtrodden demeaner vanished, replaced by the enthusiastic and supportive dad she knew and loved.

“How did you even find out?” she sputtered.

“I got cornered by Madam LeClair this morning in the parking lot,” her dad explained with a far too smug smile, “that’s why I was later than usual to study group this morning. Imagine my surprise when she told me you were a featured dancer in the ballet routine and how many seats I needed reserved for the recital.” He pulled her into a side hug, only to turn it into an affectionate noogie. “What happened to all that talk about quitting dancing, huh?”

Swatting him away, Cassie slipped out of his hold. “I don’t know. I missed it? I have more time on my hands at Greendale and thought, ‘why not’?”

Despite expecting an ‘I told you so’ or more boastful mocking, her dad just smiled, genuinely happy. “I’m glad you are picking it back up. I always hoped you would.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Is the heart-to-heart over?” Nana Doreen called out from outside the kitchen. “Can I come in and finish dinner? Potato Casserole will not make itself!”

Without waiting for an answer Nana Doreen came bustling in, and put her family to work before they could slip away.

* * *

Let the record state, Cassie tried her best to not be involved in the Troy-and-Britta dance saga.

She really did.

Thursday she ignored them on the bases of ignoring the entire group in general (she was still annoyed with Pierce about his tweets, Annie was starting the smother—again— and Shirley and Abed…well nothing was particular annoying or bothersome about Shirley and Abed, but where one study group member was, one was surely to follow).

But that didn’t mean they didn’t corner her.

Like in the restroom _—_

_“Come on, Cassie, you know Troy needs to be his true self.”_

_“I am trying to go pee here, Britta!”_

Or in Sociology—

_“Britta doesn’t understand what it is like to be me! The pressure there is to be cool all the time—”_

_“Are you saying dance is not cool?”_

_“Dancing is cool! For you! You are cool for dancing!”_

Or in line for coffee—

_“He quit! He is only hurting himself!”_

_Cassie nodded along with Britta, who stood in front of her, lamenting almost to the heavens._

_“Of course he is, Britta.”_

_She then turned around, facing Troy who stood behind her in line._

_“I felt like I had no other option but to quit!” Troy cried down to the floor, on the verge of tears._

_“Our choices are, uh, the choices we make.”_

_“But why does it hurt!”_

_And in front of her—“But I don’t want him to hurt.”_

_Turning to face forward in line, all Cassie could say to both was “All valid points. All valid.”_

_“I knew you’d understand,” both cried out, wrapping Cassie in a sandwich hug, still practically none the wiser to each other._

_“Next!”_

_“Three lattes please!” Cassie called out from the depths of the three person hug._

As stated before, she tried to not be involved, but Troy and Britta had a terrible habit of roping her into their own problems, making Cassie the odd middle man in their emotional turmoil.

Thankfully by Friday afternoon, neither of them were tugging at her shirt sleeves and begging for an ear to listen to their bemoans.

But that didn’t mean Cassie was completely rid of Britta-Troy-Dance Problem.

Stretching backstage, Cassie caught sight of Britta peaking between the curtains, no doubt looking for Troy.

A sense of pity riled up in her.

Damn, she was really starting to care for these co-dependent dweebs.

Dropping her leg from the exercise bar, Cassie went to Britta’s side.

“Britta,” Cassie tapped the woman’s arm. “Britta,” she tried again.

“What?” Britta spun around, her tea pot spout near knocking Cassie over. “Oh! Sorry—I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me.” Cassie threw jazz hands in the air. When Britta didn’t smile, she dropped her hands back to her side, her pink tutu puffing up at the movement. “Right, well, I just wanted to say break a leg. You should be proud of the work you’ve done to get here.”

“Thanks,” Britta mumbled, her eyes flashing up to Cassie for an instant. However her gaze dropped back to ground, glum. “I just wish Troy was here, ya know?”

A throaty scoff rumbled it’s way out of Cassie. “My god, Britta, forget about Troy! I get it, he’s our friend and I care about him too, but it’s his own fault he doesn’t want to do the recital. This is your night to shine too and you should feel like the better person because at least you’re…you’re being your true self!”

Britta blinked, a surprised smile forming. “‘Our’ friend?” Britta clasped her hands on Cassie’s shoulders, giddy. “Did you just call Troy ‘our friend’? You think of us as your friends!”

Her face dropped, all pity and caring-ness she felt towards Britta vanishing. “Is that the only thing you got from that speech?”

“Your Winger Speeches aren’t up to par with your dad’s yet, but good try.” Britta quickly demolished any pride Cassie had in her attempted pep-talk. “I can’t believe this! I gotta let the group know after the show tonight! Cassie Winger is our friend! We did it, we broke her in!”

None of the other dancers cheered at her whooping and hollering. Some glared her way, most ignored Britta.

“No offense, Britta, but you are the worst.”

“Places!” Madam LeClair called out. “Places for top of show!”

Dancers hurried around, Cassie leaving Britta in the wings in favor of waiting in line with the rest of her ballet class towards the back. As the final performance, she had the pleasure of not witnessing the potential trainwrecks of the classes before her, as they were far out of her line of sight.

Upon hearing the music begin, backstage fell quiet, the line inching forward ever so slowly as each performance finished.

Ahead of her in line Leslie struggled to pull out his wedgy, his black leotard riding up again. “My god, Leslie just put on some baby powder next time. No one wants to see that.”

“I tried,” the boy whined.

“Well try harder next time.”

“You really are like your dad,” he mumbled, earning a sharp glare from Cassie.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Just as Leslie was about to answer, the music vamped. And then vamped again. And again. And again. “What the hell?”

Surveying the rest of the line, Cassie put two and two together.

The tap class—Britta’s class—was performing and someone was stuck.

Hurrying to the edge of the wing, Cassie joined Madam LeClair by the curtain.

Out on stage Britta continued to shuffle-tap away, panic stretched across her face.

“She’s vamping. She won’t pour,” the dance teacher bemoaned, clutching her hands to her chest. “She was doing so well in class. I don’t understand.” The woman looked on the verge of passing out, she resting a hand on Cassie’s shoulder for support.

“Come on, Britta!” Cassie hissed, the music too loud for her friend to hear her. “Pour!”

As though sensing her cry, another dancer hopped on stage. But not just any dancer—

“Troy!” Cassie yelped.

Madam LeClair sent a silent ‘shh!’ her way and hurried over to the pianist, motioning for him to speed it up.

Sheepish, Cassie clapped her hands over her mouth to prevent another peep from being made. Silently she watched her friends dance like no one was watching, both happy and free from troubles as they came to their final pose.

Clapping along with the crowd, Cassie beamed at the two as they came running off stage. “You guys did it!”

“We did it!” Britta cheered, dragging Troy into another hug. “I knew you’d come around.”

“I am a dancer at heart!” Troy rambled, embracing his discovery. “I’m a dancer!”

“I’m cutting the clogging!” Madam LeClair announced, buzzing around as she shoved students aside. Three students dressed in traditional clogging garb cried out in despair, huddling together in a sobbing pile. “The A/C is only on for another twenty minutes and we need to be out of here in ten minutes before we go over time! Cassandra you’re on!”

Unable to process what had just happened, various arms shoved her out on stage, the other ballet dancers scuffling along to their starting points.

Before she knew it, the lights shined on with ferocity and music ramped up again.

Cassie froze.

There were people. Dozens of people.

And she couldn’t find her dad.

Shit.

“Dance, Cassandra! Dance!” Madam LeClair hissed from the wings. “God, two in one night?”

Swallowing tightly, Cassie willed her feet to move, but nothing came.

The rest of the dancers tried their best to continue without Cassie, who continued to stand still at the center of the stage.

This was it. This was her greatest fear coming to life. She wouldn’t be able to do it—perform in front of an audience again. It’d been years since she last performed, she just assumed it’d be like riding a bike—except it wasn’t. Obviously so. Fear gripped at her from the inside out, grasping hold of her arms and legs, rending her useless.

She couldn’t do this.

She was right to give it up in high school.

She was making a fool of herself. At Greendale no less.

“ _You got this, Cassie_!” The call came from the wings, both Troy and Britta huddled together, away from Madam LeClair, who was resuming her frantic rampage. “You got this!” They chanted together again. “You got this!”

The two smiled encouragingly, Troy giving a big thumbs up while Britta gave a sorry excuse for jazz hands.

Despite there previous annoyance…they were rooting for her.

No one but her dad and Nana had cheered her on before. It was sort of…nice. Really nice.

“I…” She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. “I…got this.”

Opening her eyes, she joined the dance at the correct position in the routine. Sure she had to push Leslie out of the way—the idiot was trying to take over her part and failing in every which way—but she continued on, bringing the performance piece to it’s rightful count and glory.

“Oh thank god!” Madam LeClair cried to the heavens.

From offstage Troy and Britta’s quiet little chant continued until it was lost in the music, the mantra repeated in Cassie’s own head as she finished the performance.

Falling into her final pose, Cassie smiled at the applause, Troy and Britta’s cheers from the wings the loudest.

Maybe some members of the study group weren’t as bad as she believed. Maybe they sort of were _her_ _friends_.

Not that she’d ever admit that out loud again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As y'all can see Nana Doreen is somewhat an important character. I like to think if Jeff had a child he'd be closer to his mother :)
> 
> Tbh my favorite scene is Troy and Britta simultaneous talking to Cassie in line. For some reason it feels very Britta and Troy to me, lol.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers!


	8. After the Recital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but important chapter.
> 
> Warning: Angst.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

* * *

“Cas-Cas you were phenomenal!” Nana Doreen wrapped Cassie in a hug the moment she was released from backstage. “A little rough beginning, but you nailed it in the end.”

“Thanks, Nana,” Cassie mumbled into her faux-fur collar of her coat. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Of course I liked it!”

“As always you were a delight, Cassandra.”

Cassie’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a familiar British dialect.

Ian Duncan stood a few inches away from her Nana, a polite grin directed towards her.

Stepping away from her Nana’s hold, Cassie’s eyes darted between the two. Specifically how close her Nana and Duncan stood next to each other. She tried her best to hamper down the horror she felt clawing under her skin. “Uh, um, are you two here…together?”

Nana Doreen chortled at the suggestion, Duncan joining a second later. “Of course not dear. Ian here is just my escort for the evening. You know how I am about driving at night and he is always willing to give a hand.” She gave the man a playful nudge.

Duncan blushed.

Cassie took back any thoughts she had about her dad and Slater being barf worthy; Nana Doreen and Ian Duncan took the cake.

“I see,” Cassie uttered, looking for any escape from the conversation. Unluckily it came in the form of a peppy know-it-all. “Annie! Hi!” She cried out, waving the girl over.

If she was surprised by the acknowledgement, Annie didn’t show it. She excused herself from Britta and Troy, making her way over to Cassie and her little circle a few paces away.

“Hi!” The girl beamed, the smile getting wider when Cassie pulled her into a rather forced and awkward hug. “I was going to make my way over here in a bit but—”

“Nana this is my friend—well, Dad’s friend too—Annie Edison!” Cassie dropped the hug and turned Annie around to face her Nana and Duncan.

Apparently Annie seemed to catch the awkwardness, her eyes darting to the now looped arms of Nana Doreen and Ian Duncan. “Yes! Hi!” She held her hand out for a shake. “I’m Annie, Jeff and Cassie’s friend.”

Nana Doreen’s eyes lit up at the name. “You’re the Annie I heard so much about!”

“From _who_?” Both Annie and Cassie uttered, though with polar attitudes—giddy and terribly, utterly confused.

Cassie was positive she never mentioned Annie to Nana Doreen. _Ever_.

“From Jeff,” Nana Doreen answered without missing a beat, “he always talks about how an Annie runs the study group and is possibly the smartest person he ever met.”

“He does?” The girls uttered in unison, once again with completely different tones.

“When?” Cassie could not help but tac on, hoping someone—anyone—could shed some light on the situation.

Nana Doreen’s eyes snapped to Cassie. “We have conversations without you, Cas-Cas.”

“Cas-Cas?” Annie echoed, eyes shining. “That’s an adorable nickname!” She poked Cassie’s shoulder. “I’m gonna have to start calling you that, Cas-Cas!” She wiggled a little bit, a chuckle lacing her words.

“Don’t call me Cas-Cas,” Cassie ordered, “only my grandma calls that—”

“Anyone can use the nickname, Cas-Cas,” Nana Doreen said, smiling along with Annie. “I have no rights to it. I think it would be fun if you called her Cas-Cas, Annie.”

“Then I’ll definitely start calling our girl Cas-Cas!”

“Can we please stop saying the name ‘Cas-Cas’!” Cassie cried out, silencing the two women. She schooled herself seconds later, clearing her throat. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “The more you say it the less it becomes a—”

“You killed out there, Cas-Cas!” Troy came crashing over to their little group. “I did I just come up with a new nickname?”

“Nope, her Nana already coined it,” Annie corrected, “but she said we can use it!”

“Yes! Awesome!” Troy fist pumped the air.

Like a herd, the rest of study group followed.

“Wonderful job, Cassandra,” Shirley cooed, wrapping Cassie up in a motherly hug. She then passed over an envelope. “The boys made cards for both you and Britta as a congrats on your performance since they couldn’t come tonight.”

“Awe, thank you.”

“Good job, kiddo,” Pierce complimented, patting her on the shoulder. “Don’t know where you get the dancing gene from. Your dad looks like he has two left feet.”

“From my mom’s side,” Cassie answered without missing a beat.

Expecting Abed to be part of the pack, Cassie was disappointed to find he wasn’t with them. However in quiet search she did spot Britta and Jeff talking to each other. A bouquet was exchanged, Britta forcing a smile at the gesture.

“…No I insist!” Nana Doreen called out, reeling Cassie back into the layered conversation of their group. “Forget Denny’s! I’ll buy pizza for everyone; pizza party at my place!”

Panic flared in Cassie. If her dad knew what Nana Doreen was offering to all their friends, he’d pop a vessel. He liked to keep his personal life and Greendale life separated, claimed so repeatedly. Yet the further the year went, the more the lines between the two became blurred.

Like Nana Doreen making a pizza party for all their friends.

“Nana, you don’t need to do that.”

“Of course I do!” Nana Doreen waved her off. “It’ll be like old times! When we’d have the after recital party at the house for all your little ballet friends!” She pressed a kiss to Cassie’s forehead. “Oo! I’m so excited.”

Her Nana began to lead the pack towards the exit, the study group all too prepared at the mention of free food.

Lingering behind, Annie turned to Cassie, fiddling with her car keys. “I’ll save you a seat in my car. I don’t think Duncan and Nana Doreen have that much room in their car,” she chuckled a little. “Plus I’ll need directions.”

“Sure. That sounds good,” Cassie mumbled, glancing over her shoulder. She spotted her dad and Slater together, while Britta was making haste to the exit.

She was wiping under her eyes, her attempts at discreteness futile.

“Hey Cassie, I know we can be a lot sometimes,” Annie continued, a bit hesitant, “but we really do care about you—”

“Can you go make sure Britta knows about the pizza party?” Cassie interjected, frowning at the blonde’s retreating back.

Annie deflated a fraction, but her smile returned in tenfold to make up for it. “Sure. Yeah.”

“And thanks for saving the seat. I have to talk to my dad real quick.”

Without waiting for further confirmation, Cassie hurried over to her dad and Slater.

“There you are!” Jeff called out upon seeing her. “I was wondering if you slipped out before getting tackled by the group.”

“Nope,” she shook her head, “thoroughly tackled.”

“You were great, Cassandra,” Slater said, meeting the silent politeness quota.

“Thanks,” Cassie deadpanned, not bothering to look Slater’s way. “Glad you two could make it.”

“We only caught the tail-end of it,” Slater continued giving a sheepish shrug. “But what we did see was amazing.”

Jeff tensed, jaw tightening. He shifted a little away from Slater, though the woman didn’t seem to notice.

“What do you mean tail-end?” Cassie asked, a sinking feeling pulling at her gut.

“You see Cassie,” her dad began, his face contorting in a mix of pain and shame, “the clogging performance was before yours and so we thought we could slip out for a moment…”

Cassie chewed hard on the inside of her cheek, the situation becoming clear.

Her dad wasn’t in the audience because he wasn’t there. Period. Not because she couldn’t see him, but because he slipped out to go make-out with his girlfriend.

“…Annie noticed we weren’t there and thankfully got us in time to watch the last bit of your performance…”

A strange pickling pushed behind her eyes. She inhaled deeply, hoping to stop the sudden, overwhelming pain.

“Please stop explaining, or trying to explain,” she told him before it could become anymore awkward.

“These are for you.” Her dad handed a bouquet of daisies; her favorite.

Cassie numbly took the flowers, not meeting her dad’s desperate gaze.

“I want us to go out to eat. The three of us,” Jeff began to ramble, earning an small huff of annoyance from Slater and silence from Cassie, “together. We usually go out after one of Cassie’s performances or invite friends over—”

“I thought you meant we—like me and you,” Slater stressed, “would be going out after the recital.”

“I always meant all three of us,” he corrected, a bit harsher. “Michelle, you need to understand, us being official means Cassie is part of the package.”

“And us seeing her perform was what I thought that entailed—”

“Yeah, but it also means—”

“Go out,” Cassie order, her voice overpowering their squabble. “I have a pizza party to get to.”

Jeff’s eyes lit up, perhaps believing he could redeem himself. “Great! We’ll all go—”

“I don’t want you there, Dad.”

Blinking away the impending tears, Cassie ducked her head down. She didn’t want to see the heartbreak, anger, or hurt from her dad. She didn’t want to look at him at all.

“Cassie, I’m—” Her dad was never good at apologies. Even now, when he knew he was completely in the wrong. “This won’t ever happen again, okay?”

“Annie’s waiting for me.” She ignored the shallow attempt of an apology, already turning to leave. “I’m gonna spend the night at Nana’s too. Okay? So you two can…” she waved a lame hand towards them, “…do whatever.”

“I told you, we _weren’t_ going to tell her what happened,” Jeff huffed, riling another argument with Slater. “Why did you?”

“You want to lie to her? Really, Jeff?”

Cassie left the auditorium. She didn’t stop walking until she reached Annie’s car, one of the few vehicles left in the parking lot.

“Hey Cas-Cas, you ready to—whoa, why are you crying?”

Sitting in the passenger seat—how did she even get there, everything was kind of a blur—Cassie wiped her face.

“No reason.” This was the problem of being friends with her dad’s friends; she couldn’t vent to any of them. Not even to the prying, but well meaning Annie.

“Who hurt you? I’ll break their face!” Cassie jumped at the sound of Troy’s voice, clutching her flowers to her chest. “But only if you want, Cas,” he added, patting her shoulder from the backseat.

Craning her neck back, Cassie found Troy buckled up in the backseat. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you and Abed,” Troy said like was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But other people are going to Nana’s, you could have gotten a ride with them?” Cassie’s eyes darted to Annie, who nodded in agreement.

“What? And not ride with my besties?” Troy shot back.

“Abed. He’s talking about Abed,” Annie supplied tiredly. “I was Abed’s ride to the recital and by principle he believes I should be his ride home since I was his initial ride.”

“Makes sense,” Cassie muttered, sitting up. She buckled herself up, noticing the fourth person of their impromptu quartet was missing. “And where is Abed?”

“Right here,” Abed announced, opening the backseat door. “Sorry. Had to do the closer. Add some light heart to the angst.”

“Angst?” Annie asked as she started the car. “We watched a recital? I highly doubt anything sad or emotional happened.”

Abed sat forward, poking his head between the two passenger seats. “Actually—”

“Abed,” Cassie warned.

“—Cassie had an emotional confrontation with her dad,” he finished.

Annie’s hands tightened on the wheel. “He told you what happened, didn’t he?” she asked, sparing a small glance toward Cassie as she drove. “I had hoped he wouldn’t.”

“What happened?” Troy asked, lost on the half conversations occurring around him.

Abed motioned him over, whispering in his ear.

“Oh.” Troy frowned. “Oh...” The frowned deepened. And then— “Ohhhhhh,” he drawled out, frown deepening. “That’s sad And messed up.”

“Yup.” Abed nodded once in agreement.

“Since Jeff is the one who hurt you, I can’t break his face,” Troy informed Cassie, apologetic. “Goes against friend code.”

“I wish I can do something to make this better,” Annie confessed, “I feel like it is partially my fault because I was the one who saw them leave and I was the one who found them. I’m sorry, Cassie.”

“Usually in situations like these friends get ice cream or something equally sweet to soften the hurt,” Abed announced to the car, the suggestion of ice cream heavily implied. “However, we are on our way to eat pizza, so it does counter act the idea and eating dessert before dinner is a no-no.”

Silence befell the group as they waited at a stop light.

The light turned green.

“I suppose your— _holy shit_!” The car looped in a sharp U-turn, Annie righting the wheel as she drove in the direction opposite Nana Doreen’s house.

Cassie grabbed on to the dashboard, attempting to right herself.

In the backseat, the guys clung to each other in fear.

“Annie, what the hell!”

“ _WE ARE GETTING ICE CREAM!”_ She shouted, stepping on the gas. “I don’t care if we are spoiling our dinner, we are getting that sweet, cold cream!”

“You…you really don’t have to,” Cassie assured her, trying to catch her breath, “I’ll be fine without it.”

“Cassie, as I was trying to tell you earlier, we care about you.” Annie began to slow down, perhaps realizing she was driving well over the speed limit. “We really do, and yeah, Jeff’s our friend, but you are too! If you get sad, then we all get sad! And being sad means getting ice cream and that’s what we are going to do!”

“I wouldn’t argue with her when she is like this,” Abed suggested into Cassie’s ear. She swallowed a yelp down. “You have an argumentative streak. You need to learn to pick your battles. This isn’t one to pick.”

“Got it.” Cassie pushed his face an inch away, Abed for once getting the hint and scooting back. “Ice cream it is.”

* * *

When they arrived almost an hour late to Nana Doreen’s, each with about three servings of ice cream in them, no one questioned them. Instead the pizza was passed around and Nana Doreen turned the music up, all too happy to play hostess to her granddaughter’s array of reluctant friends.

And when Jeff eventually showed up, with no Michelle Slater on his arm, no one questioned him.

Nor did they comment on the fact Cassie ignored him for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....that hurt. But a necessary chapter to push us further along. 
> 
> However there is ALOT to note from this one!
> 
> Next chapter will not be part of an episode storyline, but will cover the next three episodes (Romantic Expressionism, Communication Studies, and Physical Education). The goal is to complete season 1 in 20 to 25 chapters. So as mentioned before, not all episodes will be in detailed covered while certain ones might completely change (i.e. Basic Genealogy, which will come up in the next couple of chapters).
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :D


	9. Interlude ~ Beginners Family Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me wants to hold off a few days from posting this chapter, but I don't think anyone is going to mind if I post back to back.
> 
> This chapter covers the events of Romantic Expressionism, Communication Studies, and Physical Education.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Jeff asked. “Annie dating Vaughn?”

Sitting at the dinning table, Cassie kept her eyes glued to her sociology textbook. Like she had been doing whenever he talked to her for the last week.

“Cassie?” Jeff tried again. Deciding to give her a moment, Jeff checked the oven once more. He was heating up the leftover lasagna Nana Doreen had shoved into his arms the night previous, with the note ‘one of Cas-Cas’ favorites’ taped on top. “Cassie, you don’t think it’s weird? At all?”

“Why would it be weird?” She drawled out, uninterested. “She’s an attractive young woman dating a semi-decent man.” She flipped a page in her textbook listlessly. “That’s literally the most normal thing to happen on Greendale’s campus.”

“Because….Because he is almost ten years older than her?” he tried, not understanding how she didn’t see the problem. “And that gives other creeps the green light to hit on her.”

“Creeps were already hitting on her prior to Vaughn,” Cassie stated plainly. “Creeps hit on anyone with a pulse, doesn’t matter their age.”

Jeff paused. “Wait—do creeps hit on you?”

Lifting her head from her textbook, she raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

The idea to wrap Cassie in bubble wrap and send her to an Irish nunnery had never been so compelling than in that moment. He was sure his mother’s second cousins wouldn’t mind keeping tabs on his seventeen year old.

“Then you should understand why I am concerned for Annie,” Jeff continued, leaning against the kitchen counter. “She’s young. She doesn’t need to be dating some washed up singer-slash-hackysacker.”

“And you have the right to say that?” Cassie countered, resuming her reading.

“Well…” He wanted to say ‘yes.’ He had the right to interject his opinions on Annie’s choice of men because he was one of the few male constants in her life. Therefore he was important, especially on these matters. Someone _had_ to care. And maybe he wanted to be the person who cared for Annie—in the platonic way. Pla-ton-ic. “I like to think I have the right to say.”

Cassie’s textbook snapped shut. “Well, you don’t, Dad.”

“But I’m like one of her Greendale parents!”

A snort escaped his daughter. “Sure, if that’s what you like to call it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Standing up from the dinning table, Cassie came into the kitchen. She dropped her textbook on the counter and slip on the oven mitten. “It means you’re more full of shit than I originally thought.”

Jeff refrained from a few choice words. Cassie had the oven open and he knew better than to try to start an argument around extreme heat.

She set the lasagna down on the counter and shut the oven door before grabbing a plate from the cupboard. With the serving spatula she cut out a small square from the lasagna.

The plate was shoved into his hand.

“Thanks.” He waited for Cassie to serve herself so they could, hopefully, eat together for once. Instead, she grabbed the oven mitten again, as well as a fork. “What are you—”

“Have a nice night, Dad,” Cassie declared, leaving the kitchen with the entire pan of lasagna.

“That’s for both of us, Cassandra!” Jeff called after her.

He was met with the slam of her bedroom door.

* * *

(He maybe understood what Cassie meant when she said he was ‘full of shit’ when he saw Annie run full speed ahead into Vaugh’s arms.

And maybe he did think of Annie—occasionally, maybe once or twice, but never more than that—in the romantic/sexual way, okay?

It wasn’t his fault she kissed like her life depended on it during the debate and it was seared into his brain like a branding.

But he wasn’t a complete idiot—he saw the way Troy looked at Cassie during their study group meeting turned confessional.

Jeff wasn’t mentally prepared for anything close to Cassie dating anyone, let alone someone he knew and cared about.

He might need to take his mother up on attending mass and pray his daughter stay a virgin and far away from men until she was well into her twenties.

Jeff might have been agnostic, but the Irish Catholic his mother raised him as told him to get some holy water.)

* * *

“So Valentine’s?” Jeff attempted to make light of the conversation with his daughter as his friends cooed over their own Valentines. “I wonder who got you those daisies and dark chocolate cover espresso beans. I’ve heard those are not cheap.”

The Greendale Human Being was passing out Valentines throughout the day, the personal messenger amongst the Greendale students and staff for the commercial holiday. The Human Being made a stop at the study room (as Jeff has bribed him to do) dropping off Valentines to most of the group.

But most importantly the Human Being dropped off a Valentine to Cassie, the note signed ‘Anonymous.’

Cassie ripped off the note and slapped it down next to Jeff’s open notebook.

The handwriting was identical.

Damn it.

“Do you think me an idiot, father?” Cassie asked. Ripping open the chocolate covered espresso bean bag, she popped one into her mouth. Mid-chew, she held the bag out to Annie, who happily took one. “However, I do appreciate the gesture. Thank you for the Valentine, Dad.”

“Ha! Winger got his daughter a Valentine,” Pierce cackled from across the table. “Are you that desperate, Jeff?”

Jeff frowned at him. “First, gross. Second, gross. Third, gross. Fourth, gross.” He ticked off each with a finger, leaving only one, flipping Pierce off. “Oh look at that.”

The old man scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I think it’s sweet Jeffery gave Cassie a Valentine,” Shirley cooed. “I do the same for my boys. It teaches them Valentine’s is for all love, not just the romantic kind.”

“Awe!” Annie clutched her flower to her chest. “That’s actually really nice Shirley.” She smiled down bashfully at the flower. “I might do that with my own kids one day.”

Another series of ‘awe’s echoed across the table.

Jeff refrained an eyeroll. Annie and Shirley made the idea sound novel when plenty of parents gave their kids Valentines, the holiday streamlining like another Christmas in February.

Sure, he’d given Cassie a Valentine since she was in kindergarten—however it wasn’t to teach her anything about different kinds of love as Shirley boasted about. His Valentines were given to soften the blow of cruel classmates.

Nothing prepares a parent for when their five year old leaves school, teary eyed, to learn only a few classmates dropped the mandatory Valentine into her classroom cubby.

Beside him, Cassie offered an espresso bean.

Jeff took one and tossed it into his mouth.

That was the first time Cassie willingly shared food with him in two and a half weeks.

Progress was progress.

* * *

“What do you mean you aren’t going to the Valentine’s dance?”

“Annie and I will stop by for a little bit, but we are going to see _Leap Year_ at the five dollar movie theater,” Cassie explained, digging through her yet to be folded laundry. She had at least three loads of clean laundry piled up on her bed, it only growing day by day. Jeff was positive Cassie opted to sleep on the floor due to massive pile.

“So…you and Annie are hanging out a lot lately,” he tried. Never in his life had it been difficult to talk to his daughter, but the distance she continued to plant between them made him feel like he was floundering every single time he opened his mouth. Like now. “How did that happen?” he asked, not so delicately.

Cassie hadn’t initially warmed up to Annie; he’d go as far and say his daughter had a strong distaste for the girl. But now they were going to the movies? Hanging out every other day? Texting each other?

Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms, she shoved them into a small duffle bag. “I don’t know? We just started hanging out more,” she shrugged, then tossed a t-shirt and pair of socks into the bag. “Vaughn’s out of town this week so we’ve just been spending time together?” She attempted to justify. “I can have friends who aren’t you, Dad.”

“I know that. I know that,” he rambled. His eyes narrowed on the bag. “And now you are packing a bag?”

“Yeah, after the movie Annie and I are going to go have a girl’s night at Britta’s,” Cassie explained, the ‘duh’ tone not lost on Jeff. “She invited us; apparently she doesn’t want to make drunk phone calls and wants eyes on her tonight?” Her nose wrinkled. “Don’t know what that means.”

Jeff knew exactly what that meant. He spent the entire night trying to level the playing field between him and Britta.

“You do know you have to run these things by me, right?” Jeff asked instead, his mind going into high-gear protective parent mode. He rarely went there, but these last few weeks were nudging him closer and closer to ‘uncool’ parent territory rather than ‘best friend’ parent zone where he liked to make camp. “You can’t just make plans and run off without telling me. I’m still the parent here and you are still seventeen.”

“I just figured it wouldn’t matter because it’s Annie and Britta,” Cassie reasoned, nonchalant. “Plus didn’t you end up doing that last night? Spending the night in the dorms with Abed, getting drunk?”

“That was different,” Jeff argued, “and I don’t need to tell you where I am going at night because I am the adult—”

“But it would have been nice to know considering, as you like to remind me so often lately, I am a child.”

Jeff bit the inside of his cheek, knowing his daughter had put him right in the metaphorical corner of his argument.

His first reaction was to ground her. Second grounding in the span of a couple of months, and one she deserved after her sour attitude towards him in the last month.

However his second reaction—the one therapists like to boast is the true reaction—was to let Cassie do what she wanted. To be the cool parent he liked to think his was and let Cassie hang out with her friends. Because her friends were his friends, and honestly with just Annie and Britta in the mix, they wouldn’t get up to anything remotely concerning.

He trusted them enough with Cassie.

But he still didn’t like the idea of her spending the night at Britta’s.

But the third response seemed to be winner-winner-chicken dinner in his mind.

“How about this? You can hang out with Annie and Britta tonight—”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission—”

“You might want to considering the other options I have in mind, such as canceling the night all together,” Jeff warned, Cassie snapping her mouth shut. “As I was saying, you can hang out with them—” God, he was going to regret this; any shroud of mystery he had left would vanish, but his parental side won over, as it always did, “but only if you three have your girl’s night here.”

“With _you_ here?” Cassie uttered, disgusted. “They’ll never do that.”

“I won’t be here,” Jeff assured her, his annoyance rising a fraction, “I’ll be at Michelle’s. I just feel more comfortable with you three here, than you in Britta’s weird cat sanctuary and wherever it is Annie lives.” He paused. “Actually, where does Annie live?”

Cassie eyes widened. “Nowhere,” she spat out before rushing forward, wrapping her arms around Jeff for a hug. A hug to distract from the question, but a hug nonetheless. He held her close for a moment, trying not to get emotional over the fact this was the first time she hugged him in a while.

(No one told him one day your kids might not want to hug you and it would be the worst feeling in the world. Worse than finding out his favorite shampoo, that he’d been using since the nineties, was discontinued.)

He let her go and ruffled her hair, Cassie for once not swatting him away.

“Thanks Dad. I, uh, do appreciate it.” She crossed her arms, not meeting his eyes. “To be honest, I was kind of scared shitless going to Britta’s. Especially since Annie gave me nose plugs for tonight. I guess the litterbox smell is pungent?”

“That’s…” Jeff withheld a gag, “…disgusting.”

“And I think Britta wanted me to adopt a cat too—I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m a dog person.”

“Never let her know we are dog people,” Jeff ordered, “we don’t need her to try to psychologically change that about us.”

Cassie laughed, the unspoken distance lessening.

* * *

He told Cassie he wanted the girls gone by eight.

Naturally that was not the case; he should have known when she laughed in his face at the suggestion. In retrospect, maybe it was a tad unreasonable for a Saturday morning.

Upon entering his apartment, at half past nine, he was met with the sight of three blanket lumps spread across his living room floor—Britta star-fished, Annie curled into a ball in the middle, and Cassie on her side, turned away from both girls. The coffee table had been pushed up to the television console, leftover chips, popcorn, and veggie plate spread across the surface. On the television, the main menu for _When Harry Met Sally_ —he didn’t even know they owned the movie—played on a silent loop.

A grossly typical girls’ night in, but one far tamer than he expected.

Panic filled him.

He shouldn’t be there. Especially with Britta there.

He didn’t tell Michelle anything about the girl’s all crashing at his place, just saying Cassie was having a girls night with some friends. She didn’t question any further, like she often did whenever Cassie was brought up.

(He tried not to think too hard about the fact neither Michelle or Cassie cared for one another. How they both ignored each other at Greendale and even at the dinner table on the off night Michelle decided to come to his place rather than meet at hers.

He really tried not to think about how his smile began to lessen around her each time she abruptly changed the subject whenever he offhandedly mentioned his daughter.

And he really, really, tried not to think about how Michelle seemed to like him for one thing and one thing only…and yeah it was fun but…but he wasn’t too sure if he wanted to be like this forever. Or even for another month.)

Double checking his watch, he decided a quick trip to the donut shop across town would kill enough time. He could slip out and act like he was never there to begin with and save both himself and anyone else from awkwardness.

Of course that was wishful thinking.

“Jeff?” Sitting up from the floor, Annie squinted at him. Her hair was a frizzy mess, she already attempting to pull her locks back into a pony tail. “What—” A yawn slipped through the word. She tried again. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my apartment.” The snarky side of him could not rest, even for a moment.

Her muffled snort eased away any tension. “I know that. Cassie said you wouldn’t be back until later today.”

“It’s later,” Jeff checked is watch again, “almost ten in the morning later.”

“Right,” she nodded along, playing to his logic. “I was awake earlier, but I must have fallen back asleep. I don’t usually sleep in,” she confessed. “Always an earlier riser.” She gave a ‘what can you do’ shrug.

“I was actually going to go back out,” Jeff told her, still keeping close to the door. “Go get something to eat and then come back when you guys were awake. Any order requests?” he joked.

“I’ll go with you,” Annie offered instead, perking at the idea. “I can’t stand the idea of sleeping in all morning.” Carefully, she extracted herself from the blankets, minding her friends beside her. “I just need to change. I’ll be right back.”

With ease she walked around Britta and hurried to Cassie’s room before Jeff could argue otherwise.

The logical side of Jeff told him to not let Annie tag along. Annie was a Greendale friend. She remained rooted in the ‘weekday’ category of friendship. Not…‘picking up donuts in the morning after a sleepover friend’?

Was that even a real category?

Whether it was or was not, the not so logical side of him argued any lines of friendships or categories he may have mentally drawn for his life were thrown out the window ages ago.

So when Annie came hurrying back, dressed in a rare sweater and jeans combo, he didn’t fight the urge to let her tag along.

(However he did kind of hate how Annie was better at picking donuts than him and how she was slowly-but-surely becoming Cassie’s favorite person if Annie’s willful jabbering about their last few hangouts were anything to go by.)

* * *

“That’s disgusting.”

“Right?” For once Jeff and Cassie were meeting eye to eye and the hostility level was zero. Ever since Valentine’s Day the Winger household had become more welcoming, less war zone, and Cassie actually talked to him like a real human being rather than an immature twelve year old who couldn’t leave her alone.

But this seemed to the final nail in the coffin of their cold war, and it was all due to gym class. Specifically Coach Bogner forcing all his students to wear gym shorts, circa 1980s.

“You’d think he’d have more compassion for a man your age,” Cassie dipped her carrot in ranch, “considering men in their late thirties can lose viable sperm with tight undergarments and bottoms.”

Jeff paused mid-bite of a chicken finger.

“Now that’s disgusting.” Never in his life did he imagine this conversation with his daughter in the middle of Greendale’s cafeteria, and low and behold, the universe once again proved him wrong.

“It’s the truth.” Cassie popped the carrot in her mouth, chewing slowly. “If I were you I’d get a doctor’s note,” she told him with an honest, straight face.

“I’m not going to get doctor’s note about my sperm—”

“This was a bad time to join you two, wasn’t it?”

Both Cassie and Jeff looked up to find Troy standing at the end of the table. Disgust barely scratched the surface of the array of emotions rolling through him.

He took a step back. “I’ll just—” He nodded behind him. “Go.”

“No Troy,” Jeff declared, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, “you should join us. Listen to this conversation. I want to know your opinion—”

“I’d rather not.”

“You should,” Jeff pressed.

Cassie glowered at Jeff. The carrot stick in her hand snapped in half.

“This feels like a Cassie-and-Jeff moment and I think…” Troy took another step back. “…as much as I like witnessing Cassie-and-Jeff moments, this is not one for me.”

“Cassie thinks I should get a doctor’s note to excuse myself from wearing shorts under the guise it will kill viable sperm,” Jeff announced.

Troy’s face crumpled, concerned for all mankind. “Is that true?”

“For most men, yes,” Cassie said, keeping her gaze firmly on her food.

“And why do you know that?” Troy asked, hesitant.

“I read men’s health magazines.”

“Why?”

Cassie groaned, exasperated. “Because someone has to keep an eye on this one’s,” she motioned to Jeff, “health as he gets into old age!”

“I am not old!” Jeff cried out.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “I know that! But I am your only offspring I want to make my job as easy as possible as you start creeping over the hill.”

“You can accidentally kill your own sperm? With tight shorts?” Troy whispered in horror.

“Yes,” both Cassie and Jeff answered, not bothering to break their stare-down.

“One day you will thank me for this information. I want the opportunity for a little brother or sister to be possible and those shorts,” she nodded to the crumpled fabric beside Jeff, “might kill it.”

Jeff’s eyebrows jumped up. Not once had he heard Cassie utter the desire for a sibling, not even when she younger and some of her classmates became older brothers and sisters.

The idea of another child—no, _baby_ —sent a small dose of vertigo through him.

Puking. Diapers. Crying.

Sleepless nights followed by full workdays. Shitty babysitters. Going through so-so- _so_ many baby clothes because the little munchkins were like goddamn chia pets.

He couldn’t do another kid. He just couldn’t.

“Cassie, hate to break it to you kid, but I have zero intention of having any more children. I have done my societal duty of providing an offspring into the world and that is you.”

Picking up his tray, he nodded to both Cassie and Troy. “Now if you excuse me, I have a coach to challenge.”

* * *

Upon seeing the crowd gathering, Cassie entered the Greendale common room—

Only to hurry out as fast as she entered.

“Only Jesus can heal your eyes, Cassandra!” Shirley called after her.

“Or hours of therapy,” Cassie muttered, marching as far away from the common room as possible.

No ever needed to see their dad playing pool, naked, for all the student body to see. Not even at Greendale.

* * *

“I shouldn’t have ripped them off,” Jeff groaned into the couch pillow. Dressed in Greendale spirit wear sweats, the only clothes he’d been able to find in the aftermath of his game with Coach Bogner, he looked just as pathetic as he felt. Except maybe worse, considering he was laying on his couch with his daughter as his unfortunate and reluctant nurse. “But it felt right in the heat of the moment.”

Silently, Jeff made a personal promise to never forcibly rip his underwear off again. Especially if it meant pain after the adrenaline rush.

Standing over the couch, Cassie handed her father a bag of frozen peas. “Here are your peepee peas.”

“Thanks.” Careful, he took the bag and laid it on the side of crotch. “Ahh…and don’t call them that.”

“But that’s literally what you use the peas for. I’m not going to call them anything else.” Coming around the couch, she sat on the opposite side, keeping a good distance from her mildly injured father. “So what’s tonight’s comfort show? _Kardashians_? Or are we feeling more sentimental… _Gilmore Girls_?”

Jeff slumped further into the couch, getting comfortable. “Why the hell not? Let’s watch some _Gilmore Girls_.”

Cassie perked up, snatching the remote from the coffee table. “I think I still have the season three DVD in the player.”

Muted buzzing came from the kitchen table.

“Just let it ring,” Jeff muttered when Cassie almost stood up to get his cell phone, “if it’s important they’ll call the landline or leave a voicemail.”

Cassie shrugged and pressed play on the first episode.

* * *

“ _Hey Jeff, it’s Miranda…Yes, your Baby Momma Miranda! Just calling to let you know I got this email from a Dean Pelton saying I’m invited to a ‘Family Day’?...I didn’t even know our little Cassie was in college let alone one that has a Family Day. You gotta tell me these things Jeffery! It’s like I don’t even know what the hell goes on in that house…_

_Anyways…I’m making a stop in Denver this next week—got a couple of gigs at some bars in the city—and I thought why not? Greendale is only an hour away and it’s been ages since I’ve seen Cassie._

_I guess I’ll see you on Family Day, Daddy-o!_

_And hey--stop being a lawyer for a minute and call me back, okay? Bye!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack. Well that's a cliffhanger.
> 
> Tbh, I almost didn't include the sperm discussion in this chapter because I thought it would be too much...but then I remembered this is Community and there was literally an entire episode about bequeathing sperm 😂
> 
> We jump into 'Basic Genealogy' next chapter and this is one that gets some major changes.....LIKE ANNIE GETTING A STORYLINE AND SOME MORE BACKGROUND STORY!
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers.


	10. Basic Family Dynamics ~ Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had written four VERY different versions of this episode before I finally got to this.
> 
> There will be some angst, some chaos, some drama 👀 and of course some humor! You have been warned!
> 
> These next two chapters also jump between three POVs--Annie, Jeff, and Cassie's. 
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D

* * *

“Why are you trying to become Cassie’s best friend?”

Annie jumped. Notebooks clutched to her chest, her eyes snapped shut, only to open wide seconds later, thoroughly frightened.

“God, Britta! Don’t do that.” She looked the other woman up and down as she shut her locker. “We need to put a bell on you.”

“Answer the question, George Jetson.” Britta leaned against the locker beside Annie’s, face pinching as the halls continued to crowd with more people.

Another jovial family passing by as a Greendale student showed them around.

Both looked wistfully at the little scenes surrounding them, before remembering they were in the company of the other.

“Who?” Annie’s brows pinched together at the unfamiliar name, distracting herself with twisting the dial of her lock.

“George Jetson?” Britta repeated as though it were obvious.

Annie slowly shook her head. “That’s not a real person.”

“George Jetson! Like from the classic 1960s cartoon television show _The Jetsons_?”

“I’ve never seen that.”

“It was syndicated for decades!” Huffing and puffing, Britta near stomped her foot, but held herself back. She was prone to childish acts, her attempt at composure inspiring but also a tad bit juvenile in it’s context. “It doesn’t matter, what does matter is you have decided to make Cassie best friend number one.”

“So what?” Annie shrugged. “I can’t be closer to her than the rest of the study group? We are only two years apart.”

Britta’s eyes narrowed, jaw locking as she carefully considered Annie. “Is this because you feel guilty about kissing Jeff—”

“Shhh!” Annie slapped a hand on Britta’s mouth. Her frantic eyes flickered across the hall. “We don’t talk about that!”

Wiggling out from under Annie’s grip, Britta heaved a breath. “Come on, everyone knows. We were all at the tournament.”

“But Cassie doesn’t and I want to keep it that way.” Annie released Britta and straightened her clothing. “It was just to win the debate. Nothing else,” she stressed. “I don’t want Cassie to think I am only getting close to her because of Jeff.”

“But isn’t that why you do want to be her friend? Because she is Jeff’s daughter.”

“Well…how about you?” Annie snapped back. “Why are you so into the idea of being friends with Cassie? Hm? It’s a little weirder for you than for me, all considering…” Annie mumbled the last bit down to the ground, well aware of the ‘tension’ Abed commented on between Britta and Jeff. Even if she didn’t see herself.

“Because I want to be a big sister—a mentor, if you will,” Britta explained without missing a beat. “Cassie has grown up with the likes of Jeff Winger as her role model. It’s our job as the older women in her life to show her that men do not treat women like garbage or a door of revolving bedmates. We are powerful—”

“You make it sound like Jeff told her all her life she was inferior.” Annie may not have known either Jeff or Cassie for long, but as far as she could tell Cassie did not seem to think less of herself because of her gender, nor did Jeff seem to impose such an ideology upon her.

“Maybe he has. Maybe he hasn’t. But seeing her dad constantly have a woman on his arm must have done something to her about the female complex.”

“This is coming from the woman who just learned how to go to the restroom with other girls.”

Britta scowled.

“Point of the matter is we need to not be Cassie’s friends or buddies, but a reliable support system for a teenager.”

“No. The point of the matter is Cassie needs to know we aren’t her friends because of Jeff, but because we genuinely like her,” Annie argued. Peeking over her shoulder, she lowered her voice, “between you and me, I think she’s a little insecure about where she stands with us.”

“How?” Britta scoffed. “She goes to weekly pizza night! We had a Galentines sleepover with her! She babysat Shirley’s boys last weekend! How can she be insecure?”

“I don’t know,” Annie shrugged, “but she gets this sad look sometimes, like…like she feels left out or something. Like she doesn’t belong.”

“Maybe you’re projecting.”

Annie scoffed. “No!”

Britta mimicked the scoff back. “Yes!”

“I don’t project my sadness!”

“Annie,” Britta sighed, leaning against the lockers, “Family Day is today and now you are claiming Cassie is sad and insecure and feels out of place?” She leaned forward, lips pouting. “This has _nothing_ to do with the fact your family isn’t coming?”

Inhaling deeply, Annie held her chin up high and stood ram-rod straight. “No. It has nothing to do with how my heartless mother sent back my invite and my spineless dad claimed he is going to be in the hospital with a gallbladder removal when he already used that excuse for my rehab graduation.”

Britta stood up straight, mouth agape. “Oh Annie, I didn’t know.”

“Shut up. I’m fine,” Annie’s forced smile could break glass, “I am perfectly _fine_ , Britta.”

“Really? Because—”

“Don’t we have study group?” Annie whirled around on her heel, marching ahead of Britta. She didn’t bother to wait for her. She didn’t need her friend to remind her once again she’d be alone on a day designated for families.

She had a new family—the study group. She didn’t need anything else. Really.

* * *

Jeff was positive he was cursed.

Abso- _fucking_ -lutly cursed.

Because for some reason his phone didn’t alert him of a missed phone call. Nor did the damn device tell him about another voicemail waiting for him.

He only knew the she-demon was on her way because he had a missed call from his mother and decided to double check his voicemail to see if she left a message.

_Hey Jeff, it’s Miranda…Yes, your Baby Momma Miranda!_

Only now did he know Miranda called.

_Just calling to let you know I got this email from a Dean Pelton saying I’m invited to a ‘Family Day’?..._

And she was going to be at Family Day. At Greendale. Where both he and Cassie were students, a small fraction of the detail Miranda had zero clue about—hey, he wasn’t one to call up exs and tell them how his life had gone to shit, and Miranda wasn’t the exception.

His poor child was none the wiser her mother was going to be on campus for a surprise visit. A mother she loathed with every fiber of her being.

Michelle breaking things off that morning was only icing on the shit-cake this day was serving him.

He needed to leave. Scrap the rest of the day. Hide in his mother’s basement and play _Mortal Kombat_ on his old _Playstation_ until the morning sun rose.

Cassie was old enough to fend for herself, right?

“Hey Jeff,” Annie bounced in step beside him, beaming brightly despite the circumstances of the day (Britta sent a long email to the group that morning, explaining she may have ‘triggered’ Annie about Family Day and due to this unfortunate event everyone had to extra nice to her or else they’d all be on the end of an ‘Annie Meltdown’—Jeff just sent a ‘k’ much to Britta’s annoyance, as she let him know in _another_ long winded email). “Any big plans for you and Cassie today since it’s, ya know, Family Day?”

“Everyday is Family Day for Cassie and I,” Jeff muttered, distracted. His eyes darted everywhere for the sight of the wavy mahogany hair that haunted his dreams. “I think we are going to avoid each other all day and go out to celebrate tonight for our successful Non-Family Day.”

“Oh, that…well that does sound like a typical Winger response to what is supposed to be a sentimental—”

His gut dropped to his feet when he spotted her.

“Hold that thought.”

He pushed past Annie towards the one woman he never wanted to see again.

Standing with full confidence was Miranda Santos. Former girlfriend, Cassie’s mother, and thorn in Jeff’s side who always seemed to appear at the most inopportune moments.

She looked good—well, she always looked _good_. She was Miranda fucking Santos, hottest girl on campus who decided dorky Jeff Winger would be her boyfriend on a whim because he was the only one who had a lighter that night despite the no-smoking policy in the dorms.

He didn’t even smoke. He just read somewhere that carrying a lighter around was cool.

“Miranda,” Jeff greeted through a forced, polite smile. “What a surprise to see you here at Greendale. Weren’t you on tour with that rock band, The Yelling Frogs?”

“The Screaming Toads?” she asked, a small smirk forming on her ruby red lips. God, he _hated_ that lipstick. It got everywhere, all the time. Took forever to get out of clothes and sheets. “I dropped them when they decided to go more mainstream. That’s not what I’m about.”

“Oh, I know that.” Jeff pushed down the burning flare of annoyance he felt whenever Miranda decided to insert herself into his and Cassie’s life out of the blue. “So, what exactly does a rock accordionist do now?”

Miranda stood taller, unamused by his flippant regard of her profession. If he could call it that—Miranda had a terrible habit of joining then leaving bands in the span of a few months.

Her reason: she’s a free spirit.

Jeff’s prognosis: she was finnicky and flighty as fuck.

“I am actually on a sabbatical.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up.

A sabbatical?

From _what_?

He didn’t know if accordionist had group vacations or seminars, let alone paid for whatever it was she did.

“A private benefactor wants me to expand my knowledge.”

“How kind,” Jeff snarked back.

“So where is Cassie?” Miranda looked around the hall, loose curls bouncing over her shoulder. “I got an invitation for this Family Day thing and my daughter is nowhere to be found.”

“Cassie?” Jeff echoed. “She uh…” He glanced around, his eyes connecting with Annie, who seemed to have followed him and had been present for what seemed to be the entire conversation. Great, just great. “She’s…”

“She’s in dance class!” Annie cried out, delighted. “Cas-Cas is in dance class, right Jeff?”

A total lie. Cassie didn’t have ballet of Fridays, but Miranda didn’t need to know that.

“Right!” He turned back to Miranda, smug. “Cassie took dancing back up again. She’s a star dancer. Makes us all proud.”

“I never knew she quit,” Miranda gritted out, her smile still in place. “These are the type of things you should, I don’t know— _tell me_ Jeff?”

“Sorry I didn’t call. The last number I have for you was about _five_ number changes ago,” Jeff snapped back. “It’s a little hard to reach someone who does not want to be reached.”

“I have ex’s who are obsessed with me, Jeff! I have restraining orders against them.” Miranda huffed, arms crossed over her chest. “Sorry for protecting myself? Do you want me to die, Jeffery? Is that it?”

“ _What_?” Jeff blinked, head reeling. “I never said that. You are putting words into my mouth—”

Jeff caught himself before fell down the classic Miranda Spiral—a term coined by Doreen Winger—a spiral of word vomit and twisting to the evil woman’s clutches. He was stronger now and Miranda free for almost five years.

_He could do this_!

“Which is what you always do, and I am not going to let you do that this time, Miranda.” He stood taller, refraining the urge to inch closer to her…to catch a whiff of her _nauseating_ rosewood and honey perfume she never seemed to not be wearing.

“Whatever,” she waved him off, “I’m done with whatever sorry reunion this is. Where can I find my daughter? Aren’t we supposed to be spending the day together like some version of a family?”

“Cassie?” Jeff did not want Miranda anywhere near Cassie. The last time his daughter and her mother were in the same room together plates were destroyed, a few choice words were thrown around—such as _“I hate you. Never come back_.”—,and all three of them were banned from the local _Olive Garden_. Indefinitely. “You want to see Cassie…. _now_?”

“Yes…” Miranda drawled out. Her eyes darted to Annie. “Is he always like this now? Is his brain okay?”

Annie opened and closed her mouth, a nervous chuckle climbing out of her. “It’s been a long week. Midterms and all…”

“Midterms?”

Miranda’s brows furrowed, she slowly turning back to Jeff. Her eyes landed on the binder and textbook in his arms.

He shoved both into Annie’s arms, however it did little to convince his ex.

“Jeff…are you going to school here too?”

“I…”

How did he answer that kind of question? There was always honesty—but also Miranda knew how to make him feel like a fool without even saying a word. Lord knew what she’d do if she knew the truth. But she also had a keen way of knowing when he was lying. She got all the cool superpowers of being a mother—like being a walking lie detector and knowing when something was out of place in a organized room—but never had to do any of the work of raising the actual kid.

“Cassie’s class get’s out at noon,” Annie interjected into the strangling silence, “usually she has lunch after. Why don’t we all meet for the barbeque later? We can meet by the Luis Guzman statue.”

“That’s a lovely idea,” Miranda smiled at Annie, seemingly pleased with the plan. “I actually have some phone calls to make so this works out.”

“Great!” Annie looped her arms through Jeff’s. “We’ll see you then Miranda!”

With one great yank, Annie pulled Jeff along, leading him away from Miranda—

And shoved him into the nearest supply closest.

“What the hell was that!” Annie waved to the door. “You were floundering! Like a fish! Like a really sad gold fish!”

Something about Annie’s concerned hushed-screeching rattled Jeff out of his frozen panic.

“Gah! I know.” He scrubbed his face, all the hot embarrassment he felt in front of Miranda increasing by tenfold. “I don’t know why I was acting like that.”

“She’s…” Annie crossed her arms over her chest, struggling to form words, “…she’s a _person_.”

“That she is,” Jeff gulped for air, leaning his back against the door.

“A person who clearly has some hold over you, in a weird way.”

“Let me put into terms you’ll understand Annie,” Jeff began, pushing himself up right, “I’m you,” she nodded slowly, following his slow explanation, “and Miranda is my Adderall.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Jeff nodded once. “And it starts out like that,” he jutted his thumb behind him, “I hate her, I want her gone because she ruins everything and then—”

“You sleep with her?” Annie guessed, right on the nose.

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly.” He slumped back against the door. “I sleep with her. And then I am that spineless seventeen year old again who is head over heels for a girl who says she’s having my baby, and I can’t be that idiot again.”

“I see.”

“I can’t back slide.”

“Uh huh.”

“I cannot relapse on my Miranda Addiction.” Jeff rubbed his jaw. “I’ve been good for five years…but with Michelle ending things and then seeing Miranda again…” He shook his head. “It’s all coming back to me.”

Ugh—he shouldn’t have said that phrase. Celine Dion’s _It’s All Coming Back To Me Now_ was their song.

“So what you need is a sponsor?” Annie asked, jumping into the high-gear helper-planner extraordinary he knew her to be. “Someone who will hold you accountable? Keep you distracted?”

“Yes!” Jeff needed exactly that. He need someone to keep him in line! Keep him under a firm hold and never let go. Annie could do it; hell, she seemed to be offering!

“Then go hang out with Pierce and help him with his step-daughter!”

Wait. What?

“No!” Jeff mimicked her stance, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not going to hang out with Pierce all day. I can barely stand him on a normal day, let alone today of all days!”

Annie’s lips pursed, a small twitch pulling on her right eyebrow. “You need a distraction from the Miranda of it all and the only way to do that is to not be around her at all!”

“I’m not going to leave my daughter alone with a demon in sheep’s clothing!”

“I think you mean ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’?” Annie corrected, bemused.

“Oh no, she’s a demon,” Jeff assured her, “no doubt about it.” His mind reeled at the thought of Miranda and Cassie together; it would be the beginning of another world war. “You need to understand this Annie,” he gripped her biceps for dear life, preparing to give her a small glimpse of what was known as the Santos-Winger drama, “Miranda and Cassie cannot, under any circumstances, be around each other. At all.”

“Okay, I get it,” she said in earnest, “they don’t get along. Lots of mother and daughters don’t get along.”

“I’m serious, Annie,” Jeff stressed. “Cassie and Miranda cannot be in a room together for longer than ten minutes before everything erupts. Lord knows what would happen if they were alone together.”

“Cassie won’t be alone,” Annie took a deep breath, bright, big doe eyes staring up at him. “Why don’t both you and Cassie spend the day with Pierce?" She suggested again, this time gentler, "I think he’d really like to have another father-daughter duo to bounce off of. Maybe feel less alone?” Jeff wasn’t convinced, but Annie’s doe eyes were doing a number on him—almost making him forget about the she-demon’s hypnotizing dark stare for a split second. _Almost_. “Think of this as a tradeoff. You spend the day with Pierce and his step-daughter, be the good friend and buffer I know you can be, and I’ll spend the day with Miranda, distracting her. Keeping her far away from you _and_ Cassie.”

Jeff stepped up to Annie, eyes serious. “I don’t think you are prepared for the monster Miranda is.”

Annie met him toe to toe. “I think you under estimate me, Jeff Winger.”

He smirked. “You, _never_. Her? Better to believe the worst than hope for the best.”

A small chuckle escaped her. “How bad can she be?”

* * *

“Tell me again why we are spending today together?” Cassie muttered, eyes locked on the pair coming their way. “With Pierce of all people?”

“Because why not,” Jeff shot back, not answering the question in the slightest. He sent a grin to the less than thrilled Amber, Pierce’s ex-stepdaughter, as she came to sit at their picnic table.

“Wasn’t it bad enough I had to give up my seat in Spanish to Starburns and Starburn’s Jr. to sit next to you?” She had to shuffle along and share a desk with her dad during their Spanish Family Day class. “Now I have to sit through a barbeque? I thought we agreed to not—”

“Amber, you remember Jeff,” Pierce wrapped an arm around Amber, annoyance smearing across the woman’s face, “and this is his daughter, Cassandra.”

“Cassie,” the girl corrected, “only family calls me ‘Cassandra’.”

“See?” Pierce chuckled. “She already see’s me as a grandfather figure!”

“I don’t.”

“What Cassie means is…how can she see someone of your age as a grandfather?” Jeff swooped in, all jolly with a winning smile. “Look at you, so spry!”

Cassie frowned, eyes darting between the two men. Jeff knew that face—she was growing suspicious, and a suspicious Cassie led to trouble, trouble he did not have the mental capacity for.

“Jeff wishes he could look like this,” Pierce added, taking a seat at the table. Amber followed suit, shooting a small, uncomfortable smile to both Cassie and Jeff. “He’s already getting up there in the numbers—”

“I’m not _that_ old, Pierce,” Jeff gritted out.

“As riveting as this is, I’m hungry,” Cassie shot up from her chair. She nudged Jeff. “Come on, Dad, _help me_.”

Sighing, Jeff stood up. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Turning away, Cassie marched ahead of Jeff, falling in line for hamburgers and hotdogs. It wasn’t until he joined her side did, she turn to him, a sharp scowl on her face.

“Okay—I know for fact we had a plan to not interact today because of all the—”

“ _Wingers_!” A voice called out, a random dude finger gunning the two. “ _Isn’t every day Family Day for you two_?”

“—Because of the jokes that would be made,” Cassie finished, deadpanned. “But now we are spending the day together, with Pierce and his _not_ daughter, and you have been hovering over me to top it all off! I do not need an escort to any of my classes! I think I know where they are, Dad!”

“Okay, okay,” Jeff held his hands up in defense, “I get it. I flipped the script and I didn’t tell you.”

“Just a little bit,” Cassie mumbled, moving a few feet forward in line.

“But…” Out in the crowd, he spotted a familiar head of mahogany waves.

_Miranda_.

Jeff clamped his hands on Cassie’s shoulders, keeping her in place and facing towards him. He attempted his best sympathetic eyes, hoping his far too perceptive kid wouldn’t see through his guise. “But seeing everyone with their parents and kids made me realize just how lucky we are to have each other, Cassie! How many parents get to say they go to school with their kids?”

Her eyes narrowed, lips pinching together. “I am pretty sure you stole that last bit from Nana Doreen, but I guess I understand what you’re saying? In a weird way we’re… _lucky_?”

Her wince hurt him more than her.

“Exactly,” Jeff agreed wholehearted. His eyes lifted from Cassie, catching sight of Miranda walking through the crowd…towards them. In a hurry he wrapped an arm around Cassie. He began to lead her away from the hamburgers and hotdogs and towards the French fries and chili line in the opposite direction.

However, his daughter caught on to the quick detour. “Hey! I want—”

“The line is barely moving,” Jeff reasoned, pushing Cassie along, ahead of him. “Might as well get fries first.”

Checking over his shoulder, a relieved sigh escaped him.

Annie was chatting away with Miranda and dragging her away from their end of the quad.

Near crisis averted.

For now.

* * *

“What do you mean, Cassie and Jeff had to ‘leave’?” Miranda crossed her arms over her chest, staring hard at Annie. “It’s Family Day. What could possibly cause them to leave early?”

Maybe Jeff had a point; Miranda _did_ verge into near-monster level territory, however not to the absurdity he seemed to claim. It’d been simple at first to keep the woman company. She used an easy excuse of Jeff and Cassie being in classes and sending her—Annie, their mutual friend—to keep Miranda company.

The woman bought it, for the most part.

But as the lunch hour weened on and the lack of Jeff and Cassie’s appearance became more evident, Miranda’s prying questions and proneness to roaming the grounds became more hostile.

A strong excuse needed to made and Annie was getting desperate.

“Nana Doreen busted her hip!” Annie blurted out.

Miranda paused, considering the excuse. “Are we talking about the same Doreen Winger who has threatened to go Miyagi on my ass on multiple occasions?”

Damn Doreen being so in shape! The excuse would have worked with any other woman near sixty, but clearly not for Doreen Winger who apparently also knew karate on top of her well maintained jazzercise routine.

“Uh…” Annie pursed her lips, before going full force into the lie. “Yes. Yes the same Doreen. Took a small tumble down the stairs. But she’s okay! Totally okay. Will be fine, just some bruising. But you know Jeff and Cassie! They love that woman to death—”

“Jeff screens all her calls,” Miranda interjected, a smugness overcoming her. “At least he did when we were together. He doesn’t check them until the end of the day because the woman can be a handful.”

“Don’t talk about Nana Doreen that way,” Annie gasped. “She is a lovely woman!”

“So you really _do_ know Doreen then?” Miranda mused, a small chuckle escaping her. “I just find it funny because Jeff never likes anyone meeting her.”

“Well…maybe Jeff has changed since you two have been together,” Annie said, pushing the meager confidence she felt to the forefront. “He and Cassie spend a lot of time with Doreen, and with each other. If she did bust a hip, they wouldn’t leave her side.”

Miranda sniffed. “Since Doreen is obviously not in the hospital, want to tell me why Jeff has sent a perky brunette to do his dirty work babysitting me?”

Annie knew she could only keep the charade going for so long before the woman wised up. She wasn’t too sure what she expected when she suggested the idea of distracting Miranda. All she knew was Jeff needed to be kept away due to his proneness to backsliding into bad relationship habits with his ex and Jeff wanted Cassie far away from her mother because of potential implosion.

She was just trying to be a good friend, in her own way. But she couldn’t leave this woman hanging, believing her daughter and ex wanted her around when it was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Jeff doesn’t want you here.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, her knowing smile still well intact. “He always says that, but honestly it’s our foreplay.”

“No, Miranda,” Annie’s voice cut through, hating how cold she sounded, “Jeff doesn’t want you around him or Cassie. At all.”

“What?” The woman blinked, perhaps unsure if she heard Annie correctly. “He wouldn’t…” She shook her head. “I get it. You’re probably into Jeff and feel threatened by me. It happens all the time. You’re not the first girlfriend to whine at my presence.”

Annie winced. “No. I’m not. I have a boyfriend, he’s just out of town,” she confessed. “I’m their friend. Both Jeff and Cassie’s. A really good friend.” At least she liked to believe she was, after all Jeff went to her about his Miranda problem, not anyone else in the group. Not Britta. Not Shirley. Not Abed or Troy. Or even Pierce. That had to mean something, right? “And I hate to put it like this, but neither one of them wants to see you.”

Chewing hard on the inside of her cheek—her profile a startling near spitting image of Cassie when she was deep in thought—Miranda sat down on the bench beside them. She fiddled with the strap of her purse, her long hair curtaining her face from Annie.

“I feel a bit stupid now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Miranda looked up at her, a pitiful smile on her red lips. “You seem like a do-er and if a do-er feels sorry, they’d _do_ something about it. Not say the words ‘I’m sorry.’” She rolled her eyes at Annie. A small huff shuddering through her, Miranda crossing her arms over her chest, hugging herself. “I don’t know what I was thinking, showing up.”

Feeling for the woman, Annie sat down beside her. She dusted off her skirt, her fingers falling to twiddle with the hem. “I think…I think you were hoping things would be different. That they’d miss you and wrap you in a hug and tell you everything you missed out on.”

“Yeah, I kind of did.”

“And maybe they’d welcome you back, act like nothing was wrong, and realize they need you as much as you need them.”

“Yeah…I guess,” Miranda didn’t sound committed to the thought, instead staring at Annie with new found interest. “Want to tell me why a young, perky brunette is playing babysitter to a thirty-six year old woman who is a debatably crap mom on a day she is supposed to be spending with her family?”

Annie looked up from her skirt, her wistful smile fading. “I’m not close to my family. I haven’t spoken to either of my parents in over a year.”

“Well, that’s depressing.”

Annie snorted, hoping to smother away the stinging in her eyes. “Yeah,” she chuckled, “yeah it is. There is no other way to put it.”

“Annie—it’s ‘Annie’, right?” Miranda asked, double checking. When Annie nodded, she continued. “You seem like a nice girl. You must be if you are somehow able to put up with both Jeff and Cassie,” she scoffed at their names, “and I don’t know why your family and you stopped talking or whatever…but just know it probably is not your fault.”

“What do you mean?” Annie squinted at her, eyes watering. “I’m the reason my family fell apart.”

Her lips pursed, considering the claim. “Take it from me, there is always something else going on underneath the surface. It’s not always one person’s fault.”

“Why did you leave Cassie and Jeff?” Annie could not help but ask. If she couldn’t understand her circumstance, maybe she could have some light shed on someone else’s.

“Because I wanted to,” Miranda answered easily, seemingly unbothered. “It just made sense.” Sighing, she sat back against the bench, lips biting together in a tight line. “I was never good at the parent thing—not like Jeff. He might not ever say it, but he’s a really good dad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The only reason Cassie is near functioning human being is all because of him.” She shook her head. “But never tell him that. His ego is the size of Colorado. Don’t want him to take over Wyoming too,” she said with a snort.

Annie smiled, imagining a Jeff not much older than her, attempting to figure out parenting. Maybe not being as good as Miranda claimed, but trying his best because he loved Cassie and that was enough for him to try to be better.

Her chest swelled at the thought.

“I just…couldn’t do it anymore. So I left,” Miranda shrugged, “and for the best. I’m happy doing my thing. Traveling, performing, meeting people,” she grinned, “and they seem fine. I knew Jeff was a good guy and the right man to raise her.”

Listening to the end of her phrase, Annie frowned.

It didn’t…sound right. At all. An awkward yet deliberate phrasing, _‘the right man to raise her_.’

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, a sudden thought shooting through her mind at the mere words’ implication. Annie was jumping to conclusions, she had to be. “‘The right man to raise her’?”

Miranda sat up and grabbed her purse, a forced nonchalance to her movements. “It means nothing.”

“No, no,” Annie stood up, blocking the woman’s path. “How you said it—it meant something!”

The older woman’s sure and confident smile did nothing to deter nor calm Annie. “It means nothing. Nothing at all.” She stepped around Annie, marching out of the quad towards the parking lot. “I have a gig tonight. I need to get going—”

Annie ran full speed in front of her, stepping into her path. “No! You are going to tell me what that means, or so God help me I will tie you up to that tree!” Annie waved to the slanting, weak tree in question, keeping her stance strong.

Miranda sighed. “Annie—"

“Tell me or else!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well a lot happened in this chapter...let me know what you think! 👀


	11. Basic Family Dynamics ~ Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Brief underage drinking.

* * *

“Okay, I need both of you to leave,” Pierce announced the moment Amber left the table.

“Gladly.” Cassie stood up.

Only for Jeff to pull her back down to her seat.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It seems like we have a really great back and forth going on here.”

“Yes, the ridiculous storytelling and Amber’s uncomfortable laughs are such riveting conversation,” Cassie drawled.

“We’ll come up with an excuse,” Pierce continued to spitball ideas, “maybe something about Cassie getting food poisoning? You needing to visit your gay lover?”

“Not gay,” Jeff monotoned, not even bothering to be upset this time.

“And why food poisoning?” Cassie asked. “If I get food poisoning, that means everyone here got food poisoning. That’s usually how the illness works.”

“Then say you got your period,” Pierce order, waving her off. “Or just go now before she comes back. Makes our jobs easier!”

“Like I said, _gladly_ ,” Cassie shot back up from seat. She nudged her dad, Jeff hesitating a moment. “Come on. Let’s blow this popsicle stand while we still—"

“Hey Wingers! Isn’t every day Family Day for you two?” Leonard called out.

“Shut up, Leonard!” Cassie and Jeff yelled back.

The old man blew a raspberry, earning a glare from both Wingers.

“You’re right,” Jeff stood up, “let’s get out of here.” He nodded a goodbye to Pierce, who was all too happy to see them go.

Giving a quick glance around, Jeff began to lead Cassie away from the quad and straight into the library.

“What did I say about escorting me around?” Cassie grumbled, shrugging off her dad’s protective hand. “I feel like we are at Disneyland again and you’re paranoid about loosing me in the crowds.”

“Just want to spend quality time with—”

Making a sharp left, Cassie beelined to the women’s restroom.

“—my daughter,” he finished, pathetically. “Very funny, Cassie! The one place I can’t follow you!"

“Ew!” A voice called out in passing.

“She’s my daughter!” Jeff shouted back, earning more disgusted grumbles and annoyed glances. “It’s not like that! Get your minds out of the gutter!”

Shaking her head at him, Cassie entered the restroom—

Only to bump right into Amber.

“Oh sorry,” the woman cried out, her purse slipping off her shoulder and tumbling to the ground. “Didn’t really expect anyone to run in here so quickly,” she tried to laugh off.

That was a thing Cassie noticed about Pierce’s ex-stepdaughter; she tried to laugh off everything. A ‘whoop-dee-doo what can you do’ sort of laugh that pinched on a nerve Cassie never knew existed in her brain until Amber gave her little fake giggle.

She tried her best to be pleasant and smile through the awkward laughs, but she knew the woman wasn’t there to reconnect with Pierce. Amber was there for something…Cassie just wasn’t sure exactly what yet.

“Here let me help.” Cassie crouched down, gathering the miscellaneous belongings; lipstick, mascara, a twenty-five thousand dollar check—

_A twenty-five thousand dollar check!_

“Uh, is this what I think it is?” Cassie held up the folded up check, Pierce’s signature penned along the dotted line.

Amber’s pleasant smile strained. “Oop! Don’t want to loose that!” She said jokily, reaching for the check.

Cassie swiped her hand away, further out of Amber’s reach. “Oh I don’t think so Miss Fake Giggle.” Pushing off the floor, Cassie shifted away from Amber, the woman following her like a desperate seagull.

“Give me the check!”

“Nope!” Cassie dashed into an open stall, locking it behind her. Tucking the piece of paper into her pocket, she hopped onto the closed toilet and peered down at Amber over the top of the stall.

Below her, Amber’s sweet smile downturned to a sour pinch of the lips. “Cassandra, give me the check. You don’t understand, I need that for fashion school!”

“Don’t you mean photography school?” Cassie mocked back in a sing-y song tone. “Or whatever other lie you prattled on to Pierce?”

“Listen here, little girl—”

“Really? Little girl? I’m positive you are only a couple of years old than me.”

“Listen!” Amber repeated, hands fisted at her sides like a toddler prepared for a tantrum. “I need that money. I didn’t come here for anything else, but that money. I’m not spending time with an elderly idiot for fun or for old time’s sake.”

“No, you’re grifting him,” Cassie told her, giving a simple shrug. “You are conning him by making him believe he is spending time with family when in reality you’re a fraud.”

“Like you wouldn’t con your dad for money?”

“I wouldn’t,” Cassie told her, “I wouldn’t con my dad for anything because he’s my dad.” She leaned her weight against the door, holding on tighter as she considered the scenario altogether. “Also, never con a con.”

Amber didn’t catch the joke, instead choosing to stare up at Cassie, impatient.

“What do I have to do to get that check from you?” Amber challenged. “Do want alcohol? Condoms? Cigarettes? I can get those all for you.”

“No,” Cassie rolled her eyes. “I have my own resources for those things.”

“What else would a seventeen year old want?” Amber shot back.

Cassie plucked the check from her back pocket, examining little piece of paper with great fascination. “Oh, my dear, there is plenty I want you to do. Then maybe—just maybe—I’ll give you back the check.”

* * *

Annie hummed on her way to Astronomy, her last class of the day.

Humming to distract herself. Humming to put a different tune in her mind instead of the confession running on loop in her mind.

_“I was seeing…”_

She tried to think happy thoughts. Happy, happy, happy thoughts!

Like flowers. And organized binders. And stars and—

“ _I was seeing more than one guy when Jeff and I…”_

—and the ocean! She hadn’t been to the beach in ages, not since before her parent’s divorce. Her mom dragged them all out to Los Angeles to visit some old college friends, a day at the beach part of their little weekend getaway itinerary.

Maybe she needed to go to California again. Or anywhere really, to get her mind off—

_“…were together. That’s what I mean. Are you happy now?”_

Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

Like… Vaughn!

Remind herself she had Vaughn. Sweet Vaughn who called her ‘Mountain Flower’ and serenaded her—even in moments she wasn’t exactly keen on being serenaded—but an incredibly sweet gesture none the less.

_“Please don’t tell Jeff. Or Cassie! At least not until I can. Please don’t tell them.”_

As she turned the corner, a hand reached out and yanked her into a storage closet.

“Tell me everything,” Jeff demanded.

“Ah! Jeff!” Annie swatted at him, scuffling away. “You scared me! Is today Scare Annie Day?”

“Did Miranda ask about me?” Jeff took up an anxious pace, his manic eyes locked on her. “She asked about me right? I mean, why wouldn’t she? I’m Cassie’s dad, she should ask how I am doing! Or about my life. Because I am doing great without her! So great! I spent the last hour playing Pictionary with a hot blonde! And Pierce,” he deflated at the mention of their mutual friend, “I had to defend the shit out of Pierce’s questionable windmill drawing to the police.”

Annie’s brows pinched together. “Questionable windmill drawing?” How could a windmill drawing be questionable—it was a _windmill_.

“Don’t ask,” Jeff waved the matter away, disgruntled. “But Miranda?” He came back full force, the manic desperate lover look slotting right back into place. “How is she? Does she miss me? Does she want to get back together?” His eyes screwed shut, waving the notion away as soon as he said it. “Not that I want to get back with her! I don’t. I don’t want to be near her. At all.” He shook his head again, hands clenched at his side. “Don’t even want to look at her. Or kiss her.” He stepped towards the door. “I should probably go find her—”

“No you don’t!” Annie side stepped him, jumping right into his path. “You are not going to find her or look for her!” With all her might, she pushed Jeff further back into the storage room. “You are going to stay put until the Miranda urges go away!”

“But I need to—”

“No, you don’t!” Annie order, firmly planted in front of the door. For good measure, she locked it. “No one is coming in and you are not going out. You’ll have to go through me and I’m a whole lot tougher than I look!”

“Sure, you are,” Jeff mocked, ready to bypass her.

Annie hugged her back to the door, arms spread open across the exit, attempting to be a human barricade.

“Annie,” he gave his best charming smolder, hoping she’d cave, “just let me through. Right past that door…” He inched closer, eyes lifting from her to the door handle. “I promise I’ll be good.” A man desperate, ready to make any deal necessary to get his vice.

Gosh, she needed to put them both out of their misery.

“Miranda already left!”

As though spell had been broken, Jeff stepped back, befuddled. “What?”

“She left. Like a half hour ago?” Annie’s arms slowly dropping back to her sides. “She had a gig and didn’t want to wait anymore.”

His head lulled forward, a grand sigh of relief escaping him. “Good. Sounds like her.” He shook out his shoulders, resuming classic ‘too cool for school Winger’ mode. “I honestly don’t know what I was expecting from her. She’s the worst.”

His lies would have been believable if his voice hadn’t cracked.

“Oh Jeff…” Reaching out, Annie gently patted Jeff’s shoulder. “She really did hurt you. Badly.”

_More than he knows_ , the annoying little voice in her head decided to remind her.

He tried to keep his face neutral, yet Annie could see the cracks in his façade. He swallowed, eyes still screwed shut. “Maybe,” he croaked. “But it’s fine,” he cleared his throat and shook off his nerves, “it’s fine.”

Opening his eyes, he gave her an empty, barely there smile. “Thanks for…being the Baby Momma Wrangler,” he joked. “I’m sure it wasn’t an easy job knowing her.”

“Miranda is quite the person,” Annie said, keeping her details minimal and nonexistent. “How’s Cassie?”

“As far as I know, Cassie had no idea Miranda was on campus,” he paused, eyes pinching together, “however I am pretty sure she’s been blackmailing Amber all afternoon.”

“Pierce’s step-daughter?” Annie asked. “How and with what?”

“With Cassie, who knows,” Jeff reached for the door, Annie willing stepping aside for him, “I should probably get back to her.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Annie’s shaky inhale didn’t go unnoticed.

Door crack opened, Jeff stopped, turning back to her. “I’ll see you at the gala, right?”

Rocking back on her heels, Annie gripped the straps of her backpack, averting her eyes away from him. “What for? I don’t have any family here today.”

His gaze softened. “Of course you do. Anyone who spends a day with the she-demon gets to be an honorary Winger for the day.”

“Really?” Annie perked.

“Really,” Jeff echoed, rolling his eyes, “but don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Jeff Winger really has a heart,” Annie followed him out of the storage closet, a new skip to her step, “I think I might need to shout it from the roof tops.”

“Please don’t,” he grumbled, despite his budging grin. “Don’t need any more false rumors about me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

* * *

“Here you go step-dad!” Amber handed Pierce another cup of punch, her smile big and bright. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Beside Pierce, Cassie cleared her throat.

Both Pierce and Amber glanced at her.

Sipping her drink, she looked up at the ceiling with profound interest.

“Is there anything else I can get for you,” Amber repeated, before adding, “oh _loving_ step-dad?”

“Why don’t you got get yourself something to eat?” Pierce suggested. “Maybe mingle a bit?”

“Really?” Amber’s upbeat pretense dropped. “Okay!” Not needing to be told twice, she turned on her heel and entered the crowd forming on the dance floor. She immediately began chatting with the first young man she spotted, all smiles and giggles.

The empty cup in Cassie’s hand crumpled. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Pierce asked, swaying idly to the music. “Let my daughter go out and have fun?”

“Step-daughter,” Cassie corrected, “and yes! She was spending time with you, waiting on you hand and foot! She was actually trying to respect you despite…well, you being you.”

Pierce chuckled. “Cassie, Amber doesn’t want to spend time with me. I know that.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.” He didn’t seem too bothered by the apparent truth, still grinning in the face of rejection. “She’s doing what they all do, my step-kids that is. They spend some time with me, try to butter me up, then I sign them a hefty check and we’re all happy.”

“You _what_?”

Pierce…expected this? He expected his tens of step-children to use him as a bank?

A sudden wave of inexplicable emotion crashed over Cassie.

Deep, festering miserable pain and disbelief. And all for Pierce! The old, racist man who did not have a functioning brain to mouth filter somehow earned Cassie’s pity in a stranger turn of events.

“I’m just surprised she’s still sticking around and laying it thick,” Pierce commented, looking out on to the dance floor. “Most leave after I cut the check.”

Reaching into her back jean pocket, Cassie held up the crumpled check between two fingers. “She didn’t because I am holding it hostage.”

“Now why would you do that, Cassandra?” Pierce asked, genuinely surprised. “Do you want a check? I’ll happily give you money if that’s what you want.”

“No, no,” Cassie sputtered, stunned by his willy-nillyness with his inheritance, “I don’t want your money! I just…I didn’t want you to be conned! She’s grifting you, Pierce! And you’re okay with that?”

He gave a hapless shrug. “Amber earned it.”

“I’ve been blackmailing her, Pierce! So she could really earn her twenty-five thousand dollars, and you are just whatever about it!”

“Awe, Cassandra,” Pierce held a hand over his heart, “you like me enough to blackmail for me?”

“Ugh!” Cassie groaned; of course, that’s what he’d choose to focus on in this situation. She shouldn’t have expected any less. “I don’t understand.” She turned away from him, looking out to where Amber shimmied between two older men. She waved at Pierce, all happy-go-lucky. “I will never understand your logic.”

“Don’t’ worry, Amber’s not getting anything in my will,” Pierce declared, proud of himself, “but you kid? I’ll make sure you are taken care of. Grandfather’s honor.” For good measure, Pierce crossed his heart.

“You’re not my grandfather,” Cassie reminded him, exasperated. “But thanks.”

“As your surrogate grandfather, it’s least I can do.”

She didn’t bother to correct him this time, letting Pierce have this one.

Unfolding the check, Cassie sighed. “I guess I better give Amber back her check.”

“Or not?” Pierce grinned, a bit too proud of himself. “Oh Amber! I’m getting parched! Another punch, dear!”

From the depths of the dance floor, Amber came scuttling out. “On it!” She dashed to the refreshment table, pushing other people aside to get to the punch bowl.

“That’s evil,” Cassie commented, earning a nod of agreement from Pierce, “but I like it.”

“I thought you would.”

* * *

As the gala began to winddown, at least half the guests gone, the remaining study group members of the night found themselves gravitating back together at one of the reception tables.

Naturally, Cassie found herself sitting with Britta and Troy.

“Let this day serve as a reminder that sometimes Troy is right and Britta is wrong.” Troy held his punch up for toast, eyebrows wiggling in anticipation. Britta begrudgingly tapped her cup to his, though not without spiking her own drink first.

“Fine, fine,” Britta mumbled. “But I am not going to mark today on my calendar like some anniversary. I’m not about anniversaries.”

“I’m not either!”

“That’s right! Jehovah’s Witness!”

There paper cups came together again, this time with more cheering.

“How was your Family Day, Cas?” Troy asked. “Any family come see you and your old man?”

“I’m gonna tell Jeff you called him old,” Britta mumbled between sips.

“Did I say old man? I meant young and handsome man who is nowhere near middle age at all,” Troy utter at lightning speed, earning a small chuckle from Cassie.

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell him,” Cassie nudged her blonde friend, “right, Britta?”

“Fine,” Britta drawled out. More vodka poured out of her flask into her cup.

“It was okay?” She didn’t know how else to describe the day’s events. Nothing remarkable occurred beside outing Pierce’s step-daughter as con, but even those events had a lackluster ending. “Nana Doreen couldn’t make it.”

“Bingo Night?” Troy asked, knowingly.

“Bingo Night,” Cassie confirmed. “Honestly, it was just another Greendale day.”

“Lucky you,” Britta clinked her paper cup with Cassie’s. “I got my ass whooped. With a switch.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “It was actually a really emotional day.”

“It really was,” Troy agreed, sniffing as well. Both we on the verge of tears, clinging to each other’s arms. “I think Britta and I can never see each other the same.”

“Ditto.”

“But I can’t help but feel like I am missing something.” Cassie dropped her chin in the palm of her hand, frustrated with this weird niggling in the back of her mind. “My dad was acting weird all day. Wouldn’t leave my side to the point I had to hide in the restroom. Then Annie told me we’d hang out today and then she just went MIA.”

“She wasn’t MIA,” Abed chimed in, reminding everyone he was actually there, sitting with them. “She was hanging out with this pretty brunette lady all day.”

All eyes latched on to Abed, curious.

“Brunette?” Britta sat up. “Did her mom show up after all?”

Abed shook his head. “Not her mom. This woman was too young, vaguely Latina. Maybe ethnically ambiguous.” He paused head tilted to the side. “She looked like Cassie. If you squinted. And imagined darker hair.”

Listening to the details Abed collected in his mere observations, Cassie’s pulse rose.

“Did she have on red lipstick?” Cassie asked, dread sinking into her bones.

“Yeah,” Abed mused, recalling the woman, “yeah she did. Very bold. I could never pull it off.”

Only one woman fit that description.

Cassie shot up from her seat, ready to march over to her dad and give him a piece of her mind. “That son of a—”

Except her feet stopped at the edge of the dance floor.

“Stop twirling me! You’ll make me dizzy!” Annie cried out between giggles.

“Oh, you’ll live,” Jeff chastised, however stopping the little under the arm spin her brought her in at the squealed out demands.

Out on the floor Jeff and Annie danced together.

An offbeat, twirl and sway to the classic _Dave_ song “Ants Marching.”

Not necessarily a dance-y type of song, at least in Cassie’s not so humble opinion. A few other couples and groups danced along to the tune, Annie and Jeff not singled out in their borderline dancing absurdity.

They were laughing. Having fun. Talking.

Her dad wasn’t stressed. Or aggravated. Or annoyed.

Or heartbroken.

Despite his hovering all day, Cassie had been concerned for him. He hadn’t seem to have taken Michelle’s dumping well, contrary to his boasting of being the coveted ‘dumpy’ in the break-up.

Her dad was a softy on the inside, especially when it came to serious relationships.

She had been anticipating a night filled of _Kardashians_ , Chunky Monkey ice cream, and subtle crying as he eventually turned to rom-coms as the midnight hour loomed closer.

But he didn’t look like the façade of a unbothered man. Instead he looked…happy. Genuinely happy, without a care.

Cassie took a step back.

Then another few steps back.

A few more, then she was sitting back down between Britta and Abed.

“Whoa, I thought you were going to go yell at Jeff about your mom?” When Cassie didn’t answer Britta’s question, the woman sat up from her tipsy slump. “Do you need to talk about it? Cassie,” she rested a hand on her shoulder, more so steadying herself than offering comfort, “I am here for you, no matter what. Just let it out, kid.”

Ignoring her, Cassie snatched Britta’s have empty cup and drank the rest of the spiked punch.

“Hey, that had alcohol…” Britta pried off Cassie’s hand from the paper cup. She pushed the cup far away to the opposite end of the table.

“I know.” Cassie sighed, leaning back in her seat. “I know, Britta.”

“Let’s not mention this to Jeff, yeah? Don’t want him to go batshit on me.” Her wince earned a few mumbles of agreement from Abed and Troy, both watching the girl curiously. “I kind of like being the cool Aunt Britta. I’d like to keep that title.”

“No one calls you Aunt Britta,” Troy snorted. “Who would call you Aunt Britta? Cassie? Yeah, right.”

“I’m not going to call you ‘Aunt Britta’,” Cassie mumbled distractedly, her mind still trying to compute the scene she witnessed on the dance floor. The people around her—maybe not Abed, never rule out Abed—seemed to be unaware, Troy and Britta still discussing her potential honorary ‘Aunt’ status.

“I am already an aunt dufus! My older brother has some kids. I don’t really talk to them…maybe I should talk to them! Be the cool aunt I was always meant to be!”

“I think we have two very different definitions of ‘cool.’”

“I think _you_ are two different definitions of ‘cool’.” Britta’s version of wittiness fell flat, she slumping into her seat. Her head lulled to Cassie. “But you good, Cas? In all seriousness?”

“I think I will be.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” Abed declared, “cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So is Jeff Cassie's biological dad? Yes? No? We'll eventually find out 👀
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Love discussing the fic with readers :D


	12. Art Class Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Beginners Pottery!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! 
> 
> Enjoy :D

* * *

“Dad nearly killed a man.”

“I didn’t kill a man.”

“Nana, it was intense,” Cassie insisted, stabbing a egg noodle with her fork. “He _Ghost_ -ed him!”

Across from his daughter, Jeff flushed—from embarrassment or anger? No one was too sure. “You make it sound like I committed a crime!”

“In the eyes of Professor Holly you did!”

At the head of the table, Doreen Winger sighed into her clasped hands. “Can one of you please start from the beginning? I cannot handle you two once you start talking over each other.”

“But you can handle fostering dogs that cannot stop yapping for even two seconds?” Jeff shot back.

Nana Doreen was not amused, jaw locking at the criticism. “Don’t bring my babies into this.”

Jeff leaned forward, hands clutching the edge of the table. “I am your baby! I was in your womb.”

“You sound like a baby,” Cassie remarked, repulsed. He just had to go the ‘womb’ route in the argument. A last ditch point in Cassie’s opinion. “Do you see what I have to deal with on a daily basis? Nonstop. All day.”

“I still don’t understand what you two are talking about!” Nana Doreen, bless her soul, tried to follow along when her son and granddaughter went on their Greendale rants—this time about their latest elective class—but half the time they were getting at each other’s throats about the entire situation. It was as if the two earned a secret enjoyment from their theatrical lamenting. Unfortunately, Doreen the only available audience. “Pottery? Ghosting? Evil Dr. Rich?”

“So evil!” Cassie exclaimed, jumping at the opportunity to rant about Dr. Rich. “I actually agree with that assessment, Dad.”

“Thank god,” Jeff exhaled, collapsing back against his chair. “I was worried I would have to disown you.”

“He’s weird.”

“ _So_ weird!” Jeff picked his fork back up, resuming his meal. Stroganoff night was not to be forgotten in light of their family’s recent pottery scandal. “Who takes a pottery class for fun? At Greendale? When you’re a _doctor_?”

“Exactly!” Cassie clapped her hands together. “That’s what I was thinking! Definitely gives weirdo-serial killer vibes.” She shoved a forkful of stroganoff in her mouth. “Pottery is not relaxing. People who think that must have strange definitions of ‘relaxing.’”

“Then why didn’t you stand up for me, Cassandra?” Once again his fork was set aside, his disappointed glare rooted on his daughter. “When everyone was saying I was insane for believing Dr. Rich is a psycho, why didn’t you agree, huh?”

“Because you were Goldblum-ing!” Cassie dropped her fork on the table, forehead dropping into her open palms. “Do you know how hard it is to agree with you when you Goldblum? It is like trying to radio call someone in Antarctica!”

“What’s the point of having a kid if they don’t even agree with you on the simple things!”

“Why is Dr. Rich is psycho?” Nana Doreen asked, finally able to get a word in.

Jeff and Cassie’s focus jumped back to the head of the table, both at a loss for words.

“Why?” Cassie uttered. Helpless, she looked to her dad.

“Because…” Jeff began, unable to find the words to articulate the true psychotic level of Dr. Rich.

“Because…he just is,” Cassie surmised. “There is no other way to put it.”

“Exactly.” Jeff became solemn. “No other way to put it.”

Nana Doreen pushed herself up from her chair. “If you two are done—”

“To understand why Dad nearly killed Dr. Rich we need to start from the beginning.”

The matriarch of the family sat back down. “Dear god, here we go again…”

* * *

**THREE DAYS EARLIER**

On the last day of the add-drop classes week of the semester, Jeff came into the study room, full steam ahead and proud of himself.

“I have the ultimate blow off class—”

* * *

“Not that early,” Jeff interjected. “We don’t need to talk about—”

“About the fact you thought Beginner’s Pottery would be the ultimate blow off class?” Cassie raised an eyebrow. “How you think the arts are just simple courses and don’t require real work?”

“I never said that.”

“But you thought it!”

“Not with the stuff you do!”

“Sure, Dad. Sure.”

“Dancing is hard, pottery is…” Jeff sighed, rubbing his temple, “…also hard.”

“Can you two speed this up to the relevant bits,” Nana Doreen asked, her plate empty. “I’d like to get to my evening jazzercise. These legs don’t tone themselves.”

The father and daughter shared a nauseated look. Both had witnessed Doreen’s jazzercising. Not always the prettiest sight.

“Anyways…” Cassie picked back up the story. “We are in pottery when Dr. Rich joins and wows the class with his natural talent—”

* * *

**THREE DAYS EARLIER**

“I just don’t know how that happened,” Dr. Rich insisted as the class oohed and ah-ed over his near perfect, accidental vase. “I really don’t know.”

Even Annie, Abed, and Cassie were fascinated with his seemingly inherent natural talent for the art.

“Wow, Rich is really good at this,” Abed praised, mildly impressed. His eyes darted to Jeff’s mound of clay. “And you’re not—”

* * *

“You are paraphrasing the moment terribly.” Jeff passed the sudsy plate to Cassie, she rinsing the dish under the cool water.

At the breakfast nook, Nana Doreen watched the two with tired eyes. The hot tea Cassie made her did little to wake her. The constant restart and arguing exhausted the poor woman; at this point Nana Doreen was positive she’d never get to her jazzercise.

“I am telling it how I remember it.”

“Maybe you are remembering it wrong.”

Cassie leaned passed Jeff, grabbing a towel from the counter to dry the dishes. “Basically, Dad realizes he is crap at pottery and he can’t handle it.”

“You make it sound like I had a psychotic break down!”

“We slept at the school! How does that not say ‘psychotic breakdown’?”

Nana Doreen perked up, concerned. “What do you mean you slept at the school?”

* * *

**A DAY EARLIER**

“I want to go home,” Cassie grumbled. Her face fell into the open library book, _Ancient Pottery: From Romans to Aztecs_.

“We are not leaving until I become an expert on this shit!”

Jeff ran a hand through his hair, the light brown strands sticking up like _Troll_ doll. His laptop sat open, several tabs on the screen, he clicking through all the articles in a cyclical pattern as the night turned to morning.

A soft snore came from his daughter.

Jeff aimed to slap her arm. Instead he whacked her forehead. “Go get more coffee. No sleeping.”

“You suck,” Cassie mumbled, struggling to get up.

She didn’t even make it to the door before she detoured to the study room couches.

“You suck,” Jeff parroted back to her slumped, sleeping form.

* * *

“Jeffery!” Nana Doreen swatted his arm as she passed him on her way to the armchair. They relocated, again, this time in the living room. “You shouldn’t have forced Cas-Cas to spend the night at Greendale! It’s Greendale for god’s sake!”

Jeff deflated at the scolding, a petulant pout emerging. “She’s making it sound worse than it was.”

“I got gum stuck in my hair from that couch,” Cassie pointedly remined him. She sat down on the sofa, sitting in the furthest corner away from him.

“You needed a trim,” Jeff reasoned. “Back to the story—we get to class and—”

* * *

**EARLIER THAT DAY**

“Look, it is a working water fountain. Even has a bird!”

Once again Dr. Rich wowed the class.

And Jeff couldn’t take it anymore.

* * *

“Dad spooned a man. A psychotic man.”

“I did.”

“And got kicked out of the class.”

“That I also did,” Jeff hummed in agreement. “But then I had a talk with Pierce.”

“Your old man friend?” Nana Doreen mumbled, eyes struggling to stay open. “What did he say?”

“He said it’s okay to fail.” Jeff became wistful, staring up at where the ceiling and the wall met. “That maybe I am not as special as I thought. That maybe I am…average.”

“Oh, don’t say that honey,” Nana Doreen was quick to soothe, her words slurred with the dredges of sleep, “you will always be my special little boy. Doesn’t matter what the evil, doctor man sa…”

Her head lulled to the side, sleep overcoming Doreen.

Cassie chewed her lips together, wincing. “She…fell asleep mid-sentence.”

“I can see that.

“Did we bore her to sleep?”

“Perhaps. It’s a possible outcome.” Jeff scratched at his jaw, eyeing his mother carefully. “I had this whole speech planned out. One where I tell her how much I appreciated her efforts to shower me with love…but explain how it didn’t help me in the long run? But I know she tried her best and that’s why I love her.”

A guggling snore rose from Doreen, loud and magnetic, like a blaring siren begging for attention.

Cassie cringed. “I don’t think she heard you.”

“No shit,” Jeff grunted. For a moment neither Cassie or Jeff moved, both too comfortable and tired to move from the couch. Craning his neck back, Jeff met his daughter’s eyes. “You know you aren’t special right?”

Humoring him, his daughter consider the question. “Yes. I know I am not special.”

“Like you are a speck of dust to the rest of the world? That you might be great at some things, like ballet and school work, but you will suck at others…like baking. You are a crappy baker. Like really, really bad at it. To the point I wonder if you could ever improve—”

“Okay, I get your point, Dad,” Cassie interrupted before he could go any further in his rant.

“But you’re special to me,” Jeff told her, all joking set aside, “and I love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

From the arm chair, Doreen’s snore rose another octave.

“Okay,” Jeff pushed himself off the couch, “let’s go home before we lose our hearing.”

Together they hurried out of Nana Doreen’s house, leaving note by the front door.

_We decided to let ourselves out._

_Sorry we kind of ruined dinner._

_(It was Dad’s fault.)_

_Hope you get some rest!_

_-Jeff and Cas_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I debated on this chapter for awhile and almost rewrote it despite it being done for over a week (I have about 2-4 chapters written ahead at a time). It is kind of a filler chapter, but I think it's a nice chapter considering the angst and questions we were left with in the previous storyline. 
> 
> Also, for some reason I have been picturing Mary Steenburgen as Doreen. She was not someone I initially thought of when I started writing the character, but as of recent she is the actor I've been seeing in the role, lol. I think this might be due to watching too much Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist 😂
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Love discussing the fic with readers :)


	13. Interlude ~ April Showers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude before we jump back into a storyline, but this one brings up some important stuff!
> 
> This covers The Science of Illusion and Contemporary American Poultry.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy :)

* * *

Cassie blinked blearily into the scorching light.

“What the hell…?”

She couldn’t recall where she’d been before all went dark. All she knew was she been at school; the last thing she remember was telling her dad to not wait up for her that evening, since her Twilight and Triangles had a viewing party that night.

After that…that’s when things got blurry. But she knew she’d been in the library, but not with the study group. She’d been avoiding them all day, knowing April Fool’s Day would only lead them into more trouble. And Cassie didn’t have time for trouble. No time whatsoever.

The light shined further into her face. A perpetual blinding force.

“ _Gah_!” Cassie screwed her eyes shut.

“Cassandra Winger?” A rustle of papers filled the tiny room. “It says here you are related to one Jeffrey Winger. Is he your father?”

Eyes beginning to adjust to the light, Cassie squinted at the shadowy figures in front of her. “Annie? Shirley?”

“Answer the question!” Shirley ordered, keeping a hand planted on the back of Cassie’s chair.

A chair she happened to be tied to.

“I was gonna say that,” Annie whined, the flashlight dipping down at her petulant huffing.

“You two know the answer to the question!” Cassie wiggled in her chair, only to find no only had her body been tied down, but her hands were cuffed together. “You guys! What’s going on here?”

“Jeff Winger is a lead suspect in unfortunate murder of a frog and a cadaver,” Annie informed her, giving her best ‘bad cop’ impression. Smolder, eyes narrowed, a ‘no funny business’ aura—all classic trademarks of the trope.

Cassie titled her head up at the two, able to barely make out their stern, ‘badass’ faces in the dark room. “God, seriously? This is what this,” she nodded to her tied up body, “is about? I have class!”

“We’ll get you a pass,” Shirley assured her, only to resume her tough persona a half second later. “But answer the questions first!”

“You haven’t asked me any questions!” Cassie cried out.

“You and Jeff tell each other everything,” Annie gave a nonchalant shrug, “everyone around campus knows there is no getting between your classic father-daughter duo. So you much know something, right?” Both women loomed closer. “Right, Cassandra Isobel Winger? Is ‘Isobel’ even your real middle name?”

For some reason, Cassie caved under the pressure. “No! No it’s not! It was originally Cassandra ‘Runaway’ Winger after my mom’s favorite rock band!” Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, ducking her head away from them. “But my dad had enough sense to change it before I started grade school."

“Look at her caving like a weakling,” Shirley mused darkly. “I thought better of you, Cassandra. I thought so much better of you.”

“Weird middle name,” Annie hummed, “but the truth comes out. Now tell us what Jeff had planned! I know you know! You always have an inside clue to what goes on in that massive head of his, Cassandra!”

Blinking, Cassie squinted up at them, gathering her slip of emotions. God, is this what sleep deprivation did to her? She needed to get a grip, quick. This was Shirley and Annie, for crying out loud! Both would cry at the sight of fly getting squashed.

Inhaling deeply, she squinted formed into a stubborn, annoyed glare. “Seriously, an interrogation? I literally haven’t seen my dad since this morning!”

The overhead fluorescent lights flickered on.

Annie clicked her flashlight off. “You haven’t?”

“No!” Squirming left, then right, the rope around her loosened. “I haven’t seen him all day. I’ve been a little busy—”

“Yes, because reading about sparkly vampires is being busy,” Shirley muttered, unimpressed.

“It’s for a class!” Cassie yelped, offended. She wasn’t reading _Twilight_ willingly, damn it! “I have to finish the book series before I go to this mandatory _New Moon_ viewing party tonight.”

The _New Moon_ DVD had been released a few weeks prior, her _Twilight and Triangles_ class going nuts over the news. Naturally a viewing party had been made, her professor making the event worth a quarter of their grade as there would be cumulative exam at the end of the night. An unfortunate turn of events considering Cassie had avoided reading the books for the majority of the semester. While ignoring readings wasn’t a normal Cassie action—she generally liked to be at least a few days ahead of the syllabus—nothing in the world could force her to read the _Twilight Saga_ willing. She couldn’t even get through the first chapter of the teen novel, she knew she couldn’t follow through with the rest.

For the last few weeks she’d been able to coast by with the aid of Wikipedia and snooping the chat-boards, but she was positive a few of her peers were seeing through the cracks in her Twilight knowledge.

“Oh…” Annie hurried to untie her. “If you haven’t seen him—”

“The last time I had a full, real conversation with him was two days ago and it was about grocery shopping.” They were running low on soy milk and some fruits—her dad was back on his smoothie kick—and they already raided Nana Doreen’s kitchen for some miscellaneous refiling.

“Does that mean we knocked you out for no reason?” Shirley winced out, hands ready to clasp in prayer for forgiveness.

Cassie held her hands out to be unlocked, Annie removing the handcuffs. “You knocked me out?”

“It wasn’t violent,” Annie tried to reassure her, however her voice dithered. “More like switching your coffee with strong sleepy time tea—”

“You _poisoned_ me?”

“Poisoned?” The two women echoed back, glancing nervously at each other. Shirley smiled brightly. “That’s a harsh word, more like…”

“Helped you!” Annie finished.

“Helped me?”

“Yes, help,” Shirley continued, running with the excuse, “Jeff has mentioned he’s concerned with how much coffee you drink. And how the caffeine keeps you up at night.”

“Yes! Yes,” Annie sympathetic hum did little to convince Cassie. “And we…we helped you. With the sleepy time tea and if we put a bag over your head and tied you up in an empty classroom to interrogate you…well…these are serious times and we need to question everyone we can get our hands on.”

“For a frog? And an old, donated, cadaver?”

Shirley and Annie shared another glance, nodding together slowly. “…Yes?”

Frowning at the two, Cassie stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’m gonna walk out that door and pretend this didn’t happen. M’kay?”

“Of course,” Annie stepped aside.

Shirley did as well, smiling sweetly at Cassie. “Have a nice rest of your day, Cassandra.”

“Sure…” Cassie slowly walked out of the room, watching the two carefully. “By the way, I’d put my money on you two being capable of murder.”

Both Shirley and Annie seemed too proud of the compliment.

Annie melted, hands clasped to her chest. “Awe, really?”

“Told you I’m a badass. Only a badasses could do this.”

“Well, we did this together,” Annie stressed, her forced smile strained, “so I have as much claim to this as you!”

Blinking away the drudges of sleep, Cassie quietly left the abandon classroom as the two resumed their bickering. “God, I hate April Fools.”

(When Cassie entered the study room to get some more reading done, she found everyone crying, hugging, and blubbering.

“What the hell?”

“Come here, Cas-Cas!” Britta cried out, pulling Cassie into the huddle before she could run away.

She was squished between Shirley and Britta, their sobs warming into giggling smiles then more tears.

“I don’t understand…”

“Just go with it.” Her dad called out from across the room, watching them a tad of fondness. “It’ll pass.”

And it did pass. Almost an hour later and Cassie never finished reading the Twilight Saga.

However much to her chagrin and luck, the exam was on the culmination of the _New Moon_ movie rather than the entire course.)

* * *

Easter Sunday was one of the best and worst events of the year for the Wingers.

Why was it the best? Because Doreen Fitzgerald Winger prided herself on hosting the best Easter Sunday, a holiday most would write-off, but one the matriarch ran full speed towards due to the lack of competition. Her sisters traded off Thanksgiving and Christmas every couple of years, but Easter was _all_ Doreen’s.

Nana Doreen made a large lunch with days worthy of leftovers, which meant neither Jeff nor Cassie had to cook for at least a week. It’d be a day full of obligatory gathering and one of the few days out of the year Nana Doreen, Cassie, and Jeff would pretend they liked their extended family.

However it was also the worst day of the year due to two very important details—

Easter Mass and the annual Easter dress.

“Oh Cassie, you look so cute! Yellow is absolutely your color,” Nana Doreen cooed. “Do a little turn, do a little turn!”

Standing in front of the rose bushes in Nana Doreen’s front yard, Cassie hesitated.

Spinning led to pictures and Cassie wasn’t really keen on pictures getting out. Especially of the yellow, poofy, layered monstrosity her grandmother squeezed her in. She was positive the dress was designed for a child, not a seventeen year old. But she couldn’t argue; Nana Doreen had picked out her Easter dresses for as long as she could remember. Being a near adult didn’t change that.

Like it didn’t change the fact Nana Doreen also picked out her son’s Easter suit so they all be a little matching trio of yellow, gray, and white.

Jeff, of course, didn’t dare argue with his mother. But he’d purposely make sure there was no photographic evidence of him in the suit or anywhere near a church.

“Spin a little, Cas-Cas!” Nana Doreen order, coming over to fluff out her under skirt. “We need to show everyone how darling you look! Facebook is gonna love this.” She stepped back, grinning ear to ear. “My sister Rebecca always posts pictures of her snotty grandchildren and I have none, Cassandra. We need to show that b—” She bit her tongue, forcing a smile. “Easter Sunday, Doreen. Easter Sunday,” she muttered to herself, adjusting the garden hat on Cassie’s head. “We need to show that… _witch_ …what she is missing out on, skipping on my Easter lunch.”

Cassie forced a smile. “Right, Nana.”

However, this Easter Sunday was not turning out like Easter Sundays of years past.

Word got out on Jeff’s little (read: major, near felony) lie about his degree, their (annoying) extended family (all three of Doreen’s older sisters and their children and their children’s children) cancelling on them.

Nana Doreen said she was fine. She went as far as to claim she hated doing her Easter Luncheon anyways.

Cassie and Jeff knew otherwise. She’d been more frazzled than usual and completely threw out the decorations she had bought for the day.

Satisfied with how Cassie looked, Nana Doreen nodded to herself. “Alright. Stay right there. I need to get my camera!”

She hurried off into the house before Cassie could utter another word. “Damn it.”

“You know Easter sucks, but that dress…” Her dad shook his head, a deep frown of disgust weighed down on his face…only to form into a barely contained chuckle. “That dress makes this entire day better. Do you think she got it at the _Babies R Us_ tall toddler section?”

“Shut up,” Cassie hissed between her teeth. “Shut up right now.”

“This is easily top three worst Easter dresses she has ever bought for you.” Reaching over, he carefully lifted the garden hat off her head, inspecting yellow accessory. “Are you shitting me?” His laughter increased, Jeff struggling to catch his breath. “There is a fake bird on this!”

Cassie dropped her face into her hands, groaning. “Stop it. _Please_!”

“Come on,” Jeff set the hat back on her head, his laughter quieting, “no one we know is going to see you. And if Nana posts a picture of this nightmare, just don’t let her tag you. You’ll be fine.”

“I know, I know, but—”

“Wingers! How smashing you look!”

Cassie and Jeff froze. Neither turned to the sound of the voice despite the sound of feet— _damn it multiple feet!—_ walking across the yard to them.

“She didn’t invite who _I think_ she invited, right?” Cassie asked, not daring to lift her face from her hands.

“Why does Cassie look like a cast member from _Oklahoma!?”_ Another, awfully familiar female voice asked.

Jeff’s eyes screwed shut. “ _Lord, smite me now_.” He turned to two, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Duncan, Britta, what are you two doing here?”

“The lovely Doreen invited me to Easter mass with you lot,” Duncan informed him, chest puffing. “And unfortunately Britta was in my office for our weekly independent study meeting when Doreen called.”

“So she invited herself?” Jeff asked, eyes narrowing on the blonde in question.

“No!” Britta huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Duncan answers all his office calls on speaker and Doreen invited me once she heard I was there.”

“You aren’t even Catholic!” Jeff pointedly reminded her.

“Neither are you,” Britta scoffed, “or does mommy not know that?” she asked knowingly.

“She _does_ know that,” Cassie informed them as she shuffled over to join the conversation. “But she chooses to ignore it. Especially on Christmas and Easter.”

“I see.” Britta nodded sagely. “You do it for the free food.”

“Yes,” both father and daughter agreed readily. The free food and leftovers were always a plus.

“Terrible, just terrible.” Britta leaned over to Duncan, lowering her voice. “There _is_ going to be free food at this, right?”

“Doreen always gives me free food,” Duncan said with a shrug. “But then again I am her favourite amongst Jeffery’s pre-Greendale friends.”

Britta hummed, eyebrows rising at the news, surprised. “Good to know.”

“Oh, good!” Nana Doreen called out upon coming outside. “Britta and Ian are here!” Upon reaching the two guests, Nana Doreen hugged each, delighted by their presence. “That means we can all load up in the car after I finished taking pictures.”

“Together?” Jeff uttered out, strangling against the bright yellow tie his mother forced on him when he stopped by that morning. Loosening the tie, he was finally able to rip it off. “Don’t you think it’ll be a tight fit—”

“Nonsense Jeffrey,” his mother waved off, “we’ll all fit in your car. I want us all to go together like a family.”

“Yeah Jeff,” Britta chimed in, grinning ear to ear, “like a family, buddy-boy.”

His teeth gritted, but Jeff kept his less than kind comments to himself. “Alright. Sure. Whatever.”

“Great!” Doreen patted his cheek, pleased. “Now everyone in front of the rose bush!”

Sighing gravely, Cassie shuffled back to her spot. Jeff followed soon after, his yellow tucked away in his pant pocket and out of the camera’s view.

“I said everyone,” Doreen harped, sending an imploring look to both Britta and Duncan.

Naturally Ian Duncan did not need to be told twice, happy to stand beside a disgruntled Jeff in the name of holiday picture.

“Go on Britta,” Doreen urged, nudging the woman to join the rest.

“What?” Britta blinked. She frantically shook her head. “No, no. Why don’t you go with your family and I’ll take the picture?”

She held her hand out for the camera, yet Doreen simply stared at her, waiting for her to scurry along with the others.

“Come on, Britta,” Jeff grumbled, squinting from the rise of the morning sun. “She’s not going to take ‘no’ for answer.”

“I’m not,” Doreen agreed.

“O-kay,” Britta uttered, taking a weighty step forward. “I guess I’ll…” Exhaling a deep breath she went to stand on Cassie’s left, at the end of their little portrait. “Here good?”

“Perfect!” Doreen called back, camera aimed at the four. “Smiles!”

A quick succession of clicks echoed, Doreen happy to take as many pictures until she got the perfect shot.

Cassie was positive none of them were giving their best genuine smile—well maybe beside Duncan. He had a strange infatuation with her grandmother, and Cassie was sure he’d worship the ground she walked on if Nana Doreen wouldn’t be freaked out by it.

“Okay that’s enough, Mom,” Jeff announced, breaking away from the group. “I’m going to the car and I’m leaving in the next five minutes with or without you.”

Doreen scoffed, shaking her head as she dropped her camera into her purse. “Like he’d step into a church on his own free will.”

Her son didn’t hear her, already walking away with his sunglasses set firmly over his eyes. The good son persona had been traded out for Jeff ‘Too-Cool-For-This-Shit’ Winger, no one surprised by the flip of a switch attitude change.

The rest of the group followed along, Cassie picking up her pace to meet up with Britta and Duncan.

Only for Nana Doreen to pull her a step back.

“So… _Britta_?” the woman whispered in her ear, eyebrows jumping up in a little dance. “And _Jeff_?”

Cassie frowned at Nana Doreen. Her grandmother smirked as though she knew the greatest secret in the world and was just bursting to scream it from the roof tops.

Oh. God. _No_.

“No,” Cassie shook her head, the ribbons of her hat flopping about. “I already know what you are thinking and the answer is ‘no’.”

“Come on,” Nana Doreen nudged her playfully, “can’t you see them together? You’re dad’s not seeing that professor anymore and he and Britta seem to click—”

“I am not going to let you trail cat hair all over my car!” Jeff had marched around the car to the trunk, opening the back. He produced a lint roller, tossing it in Britta’s direction.

“Like I can help the fact my cats shed!” Britta sniffed, rolling the sticky tape contraption along her burgundy dress and black leather jacket. “It is a natural component to their biology.”

“It’s disgusting,” Jeff told her point blank before ducking back into the driver’s seat.

In the passenger seat of the car Duncan could barely contain his snickers.

“Trust me Nana,” Cassie cringed when Britta ripped the first fur covered sticky sheet from the lint roller away, only to get the sheet stuck on the back of her arm, “Britta and Dad are just friends with weird sexual tension.”

“Well sweetie, for some people that’s enough.” Doreen patted her looped arm, dragging her along to the car before they ran any later for mass.

(Britta and Duncan ended up spending lunch with the Wingers, getting their fill of free food. But they also enjoyed an afternoon full of board games and chatter, Nana Doreen keen on getting to know her son’s blonde friend.

Cassie merely rolled her eyes and held her breath. Her dad and Britta were never going to be a thing despite Nana Doreen’s not so subtle meddling.)

* * *

“We need to be a united front.” Jeff paced the front of the couch, mouth set in a dark, determined pout. “Abed has become the leader and he’s tapped into each member’s desires. Every single persons,” his feet stopped, standing right in front of Cassie, “except yours.”

Laying on the couch, Cassie looked up from her laptop, glasses drooping down her nose. The blue light reflected off her lens, _Tumblr_ open on her screen. “Your point?”

“How?” Her dad pushed her legs aside and sat down on the edge of the couch. His desperate eyes begged for any clarity or insight she could offer.

“How?” Cassie raised an eyebrow. “You are asking how Abed hasn’t done more favors for me or have me eating out of the palm of his hand?”

Jeff leaned forward, closing Cassie’s laptop. “Yes. This is serious matter, Cassandra.”

“Serious because the group no longer listens to you or serious because Abed might flounder under this control?”

“Both,” Jeff gave an unapologetic shrug. “With great power comes great responsibility.”

“You stole that from _Spiderman_.”

“But it still stands,” Jeff insisted, “I do not have control because I want it—”

“But you do. Want it that is.”

“—I have it because I know how to use it for all of our benefits without anyone getting out of line,” Jeff finished, ignoring Cassie’s annoying little comment.

He didn’t like control. Control liked him. He could deny the charisma and leadership bestowed upon him; he embraced it like he was designed to. His hand was made to bring silence and order to their group. No one else knew how to handle the group before all their egos got out of hand.

Cassie sat up, hugging her laptop to her chest. “Do you want to know how I have not fallen into the Abed Mafia Family Chicken trap?”

“How?”

“We’re _Goodfella_ -ing.” She gave a small shrug. “Once he gets his fill, this little hiccup in power will be done and everything will go back to normal.”

“Now you are just being optimistic. It’s gross.” Jeff shot up from the couch, marching away like an angsty teenager, shoulders slumped and sneering. “Fine! Don’t help me, Cassie! I didn’t want your help anyway!”

“I literally—” His bedroom door slammed. “I was literally helping you.” She huffed, falling back against the couch cushions. “This is what I get for being a good daughter. I don’t even know why I try.”

“ _I can hear you!”_ Jeff shouted from his room.

“Good! I wanted you to!” Cassie shouted back.

* * *

And just like Cassie told her father, life went back to normal after a couple of days. The study group’s chicken finger golden age coming to an end. They were even able to get a refund on the chicken finger jackets

In the end no one could find Annie’s Boobs…a soul lost in the halls—and vents—of Greendale.

However, one matter stuck with Jeff…

_“There are specialists you can talk to.”_

Abed’s remark. He addressing, without flinching, Jeff had a problem with control and probably should do something about it.

And maybe he would. He just didn’t know how per say without feeling like a failure.

“Do you think I problem with control?”

Standing in the cereal aisle, Cassie dropped the _Raisin Brand_ box into the cart. She turned back to the selection, picked up a box of _Cookie Crisp_ —the mascot wasn’t a wizard or a burglar, much to Jeff’s surprise, but a _wolf_ —and dropped the sugar infested cereal with the rest of their growing pile of groceries.

She pointedly avoiding him.

Jeff should have expected this.

His daughter, while mouthy and blunt, was far too kind in her own way. Cared for his fragile ego far more than any child should for their parent. If anything it should be the other way around; he should be the one comforting his child over some emotional or mental block they were facing (teenagers were angsty and drama fueled beasts, Cassie luckily not too much like the norm), rather than he asking his seventeen year old if he had control issues.

“Cassie, I’m serious. Do you think I have a control problem?”

“I know you are serious.” Her eyes remained locked on the wall of cereals. “That’s why I haven’t said anything.”

“How do you know I am serious?”

“You haven’t so much as spoken a word since we’ve gotten here, which means you’ve been planning on asking me this for some time and decided this shopping trip would be the time to do it.” Cassie shrugged, her blue snow jacket making the entire gesture larger than necessary. “You have a habit of breaking news while shopping. You did the same thing when my cat went back to the shelter, and when Mom left, and when you cancelled our annual skiing trip because of a big case a few years back.” She pursed her lips, staring hard at the _Froot Loops_. “You’re a creature of habit.”

Jeff’s jaw dropped; he never knew he used shopping as a buffer for emotional situations. But clearly his daughter did. She must have noticed it long ago if she were able to list off examples without a second thought.

He closed his mouth when Cassie glanced his way, a concerned pinch to her brows. “That’s…perceptive. Very perceptive.”

“Yup. One has to be perceptive around you, Dad,” she joked, though Jeff didn’t laugh.

“Can you answer the question though?” He tried asking again. He hunched down to brace his forearms against the shopping cart, meeting her eyelevel. “Because I think I do. Have a problem that is. With control.”

She turned to him, lips downturned. “Maybe?”

“Cassie…”

“Yeah. You do,” she finally blurted out. “But that’s you. You’ve always been like that.”

“But that’s not good is it?”

“It depends.”

Jeff stood up straight, starting to push the cart along, down the aisle. Cassie fell in step beside him.

“I think I have a problem,” Jeff frowned, rolled his eyes and added, “ _problems_. With an ‘s’. Multiple.”

Like daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And narcissism. Depression. Anxiety. Maybe some acute alcoholism and self-loathing to name a few.

“Okay,” Cassie said, filling the awkwardness with sound. “What are you going to do about your problems?”

“I’m going to start therapy.”

“Wow,” Cassie turned to him, stunned. “That’s…that’s good. Really good. Uh, when?”

“This next week,” he answered. Saying those words, telling his daughter he was making an effort to change, felt good. A strange, relief and weight lifting off his shoulders kind of good. “And hopefully it works out with this one and I’ll continue with it.”

“Good, that’s good.” They turned into the next aisle, rice and pasta, neither eyeing the shelves for anything in particular, too consumed with the conversation. “But you know you don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Jeff assured her. “I want you to know I am going to therapy and I am trying…to be better.” For some reason it hurt to get those words out; to admit to the one person he cared about that maybe he kind of wasn’t as great as he liked to believe. “A better person. A better dad.” He exhaled heavily. “I don’t know…. feel better too? You out of anyone should know I’m going to try this.”

His daughter smiled up at him, non-judgmental and understanding. “Then I’m proud of you, Dad. I really am.”

Jeff didn’t know what to do with the praise so instead of enjoying the moment, he pushed the cart ahead of her, his long legs putting him further ahead of Cassie. “I’m putting the _Cookie Crisp_ back. We don’t need that sugar-garbage in our home.”

“But I wanted—ugh! Fine. Whatever.” She shouted to his back, walking a leisure pace until she caught up with him. “Put it back. See if I care!”

(When his therapist asked if the parent and child roles were ever reversed in their home, Jeff shook his head, scoffing. “No, of course not. I’m the adult, not Cassie.”

He tried to ignore the long scribbled note she made after that answer.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured I needed to pinpoint when Jeff starts therapy. I figured after Abed suggests Jeff sees someone in Contemporary American Poultry that it be a could leaping off point.
> 
> For those of you wondering when we'll find out if Jeff is really Cassie's dad, it is going to be an ongoing underlying storyline. It won't get a resolution until later (like end of season 1 or season 2 later) and it will be touched upon in every few chapters when it organically makes sense.
> 
> Also...daily updates will eventually slow down to once a week, so enjoy it while it lasts :)


	14. The Art of Discourse & Confrontations ~ Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Bullying and name calling.
> 
> Some dialogue is lifted from the episode. You'll know where!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

“Just look at the facts,” Annie muttered, thumbnail chewed down to numb. Her dull lamp did little the shed light in her dark apartment, however the blinding lights from Dildopolis provided some help as she squinted down at her spiral bound notebook. “The facts are the truth and everything else is not real.”

In rehab, counselling sessions were a mandatory and vital component to recovery. Both individual and group sessions allowed Annie to truly understand her thought process and her addiction, but most importantly these sessions allowed her to breakdown the how and the why of her reactions.

Anxiety was a major ‘why’ for many circumstances in her life.

To wade through the sea of anxiety, she needed to decipher the reality from the falsehood of her overactive thoughts.

Two lists were laid on her second-hand card table.

“Facts,” she read aloud, her perfect print in purple ink staring back at her, “Jeff raised Cassie.”

He did. Said so himself. Cassie did as well. Doreen too. The grandmother could talk anyone’s ear off about the Jeff’s early years as a father and had a plethora of photo albums as evidence.

There was zero doubt about this one particular fact.

“Another fact,” Annie pushed her old wire rimmed glasses higher, “Cassie acts like Jeff. Arguably a byproduct of he raising her or genetics. Nature vs. Nurture—” she paused, “let’s add a question mark to this bullet point.”

Cassie had, what Annie liked to call, Winger-isms.

She snarked. She sneered. She argued.

All…not the best attributes from Jeff.

But she also had a big heart, even if Cassie didn’t always show it. Just like Jeff.

“Fact three, Miranda is Cassie’s biological mother.” Annie frowned down at the list. Picking up her purple pen again, she added, _‘shares similar physical characteristics.'_

Similar skin tones. Similar hair color and texture, except Cassie’s was more of a darker, richer brown rather than a warmer chocolate color like Miranda’s. But then again Miranda’s hair could be dyed…

“Facts, Annie. The facts!” No what if’s, just facts.

“Fact five…Both Miranda and Cassie are performers and creative…while Jeff is not in the traditional sense.”

Example A: Pottery.

However in Jeff’s defense, pottery is an acquired skill for most people. So it didn’t count right?

On the other hand, the same could be said for any talent or skill…like dancing or an playing an instrument.

Jeff could be creative…if he wanted to be. Someone had to be creative and have an imagination of a certain degree to be able to lie the way he did.

Annie decided to put a pin in the ‘ _Is Jeff Creative_? _If So, Which Kind of Creative_?’ topic.

“Fact six…Jeff is tall. Miranda is average height. Cassie is short.” Annie squirmed in her seat, lips pursing. “This one is stupid and reaching.”

Fact six was scribbled out.

“Fact… the fact is Miranda doesn’t know for sure if Jeff is Cassie’s biological dad.” Annie groaned dropping her head into her folded arms. “This is ridiculous! I can’t figure this out by just observing. I need evidence! I real DNA test or a blood—”

Annie’s head peeked up. Wait a minute…

She snatched up her cell phone, flipping it open. Clicking to her contacts, she scrolled down to Jeff’s.

** Annie **

**Hey Jeff! Quick Q: what’s your blood type?**

Satisfied with herself, Annie snapped her cell phone shut.

Her phone buzzed before she even set it down.

**_ Jeff _ **

**_thats a weird q to ask @ 4AM_ **

****

“Ah!” Annie’s eyes darted to her alarm clock— _4:16AM_ glared back in neon greed digits.

** Annie **

**I thought you’d see text in morning**

**_ Jeff _ **

**_y r u up @ 4AM?_ **

** Annie **

**Y R U UP @4AM?**

**_ Jeff _ **

**_I asked 1 st_ **

****

** Annie **

**I asked 2 nd**

**_ Jeff _ **

**_Insomnia_ **

**_U?_ **

** Annie **

**Can’t sleep.**

She paused, realizing she maybe needed to add a reason why she was asking for his blood type in the middle of the night.

** Annie **

**Updating emergency binder to pass time.**

**Getting every1’s bt**

**_ Jeff _ **

**_Oh_ **

****

**_ Jeff _ **

**_I’m A+_ **

**_Cas too._ **

****

Her forehead thumped against the table. “Of course they _both_ have one of the most common blood types!”

It didn’t even matter anyways since she didn’t know Miranda’s blood type. She wouldn’t be able to rule out if Jeff was Cassie biological father through blood type despite her well-wishing she could.

**_ Jeff _ **

**_U can put me as an emergency contact 4 u too_ **

**_I don’t mind_ **

****

Oh. She never thought of putting someone down as her emergency contact.

By force of habit, she’d often find herself putting down her mother’s name, only to remember a cold half second later her mother wanted nothing to do with her. Even if it was as an emergency contact.

Annie once thought of putting her Bubbe, but scratched out the idea upon further consideration. Her grandmother was already so old, only a few years left in her, to put her under stress in the event of a medical emergency…well Annie didn’t want to cause any more trouble than necessary.

She never thought of putting down someone who wasn’t family.

If she had to pick someone she knew, a friend in particular, Jeff wasn’t a bad option.

In the event of an emergency, she trusted him…enough. Enough to know he wouldn’t completely flounder—not like Abed or Troy or even Britta—and to know he wouldn’t say make any drastic decisions without consulting her—like Shirley and Pierce.

Ideally, Cassie was the perfect person. She was one of Annie’s closest friends and knew where all her emergency binders were located. However, Cassie was still a minor.

Considering all the facts, Jeff was the only candidate for an emergency contact.

** Annie **

**Thx**

**_ Jeff  _ **

**_no problem._ **

**_now go to bed._ **

**_it’s late._ **

****

**_ Jeff _ **

**_at this rate, I’ll need to get_ **

**_u coffee too_ **

****

** Annie **

**Lol. I’ll be fine.**

When Jeff did arrive for study group the next morning with an extra coffee in hand, Annie tried her best to hamper down her blush. It didn’t matter that no one else had yet to show, she needed to keep her dignity and tiny-barely there crush (she had Vaughn for crying out loud!) in check.

However when he set the extra coffee in front of her, Annie could not help but smile.

“Milady,” he greeted with a small nod. “Latte. Soy milk. Because lactose intolerant,” he told her, more than proud of himself for remembering.

“Thank you, Milord.”

She grinned at him, his own smile meeting his eyes. A rare sight from Jeff Winger.

However this only made her knowledge weigh heavier; she was going to have to tell him sooner or later. 

Just maybe she could hang on to the later a little longer.

* * *

Cassie supposed the one nice thing about Greendale being Greendale was the fact it became it’s own version of a small town.

Everyone knew everyone.

She knew the cafeteria staff by name. She knew who was sleeping with who from her sources at the teacher’s lounge. And she could sign a random birthday card passed around in any one of her classes and know exactly who she was signing for. After all she had Facebook and her notifications on.

She could smile and wave as she passed by her peers, recognizing the familiar faces.

Familiar, distant acquaintances.

Cassie liked it that way. She felt at home in the halls of her community college and not many could say the same. Far more comfortable than she felt in any school she attended in her entire life.

That was why when she heard a long-lost ‘nickname’ shouted at her across the hall she froze, completely and utterly violated in ever emotional sense of the word.

“Did ya hear, me?” The obnoxious Mark Cahill called out again. “Awe, you guys,” he nudged his friends—Kelly and Scott, the same arrogant posse he carried around through out middle school and apparently in high school—chuckling, “she’s acting like she can’t hear us!”

Locker open, Cassie ducked her head deeper into the confines.

“Please let this be a nightmare, please let this be a nightmare,” she muttered to the metal wall of salvation. “Saint…” She trailed off. She never paid attention in church to be able to recall any of saints or their functions. Maybe she should have taken Nana Doreen on her offer to sign her up for catechism all those years ago to at least have the knowledge in her possession. “Saint…who ever is listening,” she tried, “please let this be a dream. A terrible, terrible dream or hallucination. Maybe something I ate causing this glitch in the Matrix.”

A thumping of hands hitting the locker beside her halted any other ill manifested prayers form being uttered.

“Wussy Cassie,” her middle school bully sang out less than a foot away, “I know it’s you!” He scoffed when she didn’t bother to acknowledge him, keeping her head tucked into her locker. “I know it’s you and you can hear me! I’d be able to know you anywhere.”

“Wussy Cassie, Wussy Cassie, Wussy Cassie,” the three chanted low, giggling with each other in between.

“Come on, don’t be a sour puss Wussy,” Kelly poked on Cassie’s shoulder repeatedly. “Say ‘hi’ like the good little wussy you are.”

A small, childish part of Cassie wished her dad was around to scare off the teenagers. For her to run to his side and hide her face in his chest like the tween year old she felt like.

Because she was positive she hadn’t willingly seen these hellions since she was twelve, when she was shoved into a closet for ‘Seven Minutes of Heaven’ with Mark at an end of school year party back in seventh grade.

And now here she was, almost an adult, attending college and somehow the devious, irritating three had intruded on her turf.

How? By god, she had no idea, but sure did make her mind reel.

“Come on Wussy, you aren’t going to say ‘hi’ maybe show us around,” Mark asked, leaning against the locker beside her.

Cassie kept her gaze forward. Take the high road; all she had to do was take the high road (a voice in her head, who sounded far too much like Dad, told her to fight fire with fire—Cassie ignored this voice as she so often did in these particular type of events) and ignore them. And then, perhaps, they’d leave her alone.

Sure, such tactics didn’t work in middle school, but they weren’t in middle school anymore, now were they?

Squaring her shoulders, Cassie grabbed her dance bag and slammed her locker shut.

She turned to Mark, Kelly, and Scott, frowning darkly. “Hi,” she drawled, eyes darting to each, “what a surprise to see you three. Don’t you have Lakeview Academy’s halls to haunt?”

Mark grinned smugly at the mention of the private school he and his three friends attended. A high school she didn’t attend in favor for one closer to her Dad’s work; an easy commute for him. Not that it mattered, she never graduated from West Valley High School. She thought people like Mark were well behind her. Strange how a couple of years could change everything and nothing at all. “Got a waver to take some college courses here. So I guess you can say we’re classmates again Wussy.”

“How nice,” Cassie deadpanned, head lulling to the side in blunt disinterest. “As riveting as this catch-up is, I have class—”

“I heard you graduated early from some people around school but I didn’t believe them,” he continued, barreling right past her remark, “I mean, Wussy Cassie? Graduating early? Going to college? No one who’d ever been in your wussy presence would believe it.”

His goons nodded rapidly in agreement. Brainwashed, annoying bobblehead goons.

“Well believe it,” Cassie muttered, taking a step back, “because here I am.”

“At a second rate community college.”

“One you are also at, might I remind you,” Cassie shot back before he wiggle his dig any deeper.

“To get ahead in life. Because that’s what I do,” Mark shrugged nonchalant, “not like wussies who suck in life and have nowhere else to go.”

Cassie gritted her teeth.

Take. The. High. Road.

Take it.

However—

_Fight fire with fire_.

“Eat shit, Mark,” Cassie declared. She turned on her heel and marched away, not even bothering to relish in his astonished face. He probably never believed in his life ‘Wussy Cassie’ would fight back. Serves the idiot right.

Except—“ _Eat shit, eat shit, eat shit_ ,” the three started blathering back at her in mocking voices, following her up until the end of the hall.

“See ya, Wussy!” Mark called at her back as she turned the corner to the dance room.

She flipped him off. It made her feel better but she knew it did nothing, but sting the embarrassed pain that was already raging from old wounds.

* * *

_“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The other teenagers shouted from outside the dark, walk-in closet. Loud thumping sounded against the door, the walls feeling like they were creeping in closer and closer. No doubt ears must have been pressed to the door, hoping to catch any exchange that may have been happening between Mark and Cassie._

_“Are you going to do it, Cassie?” Mark taunted. Yet the quiver of nerves in his voice were not lost on Cassie. “Or are you going to be a wuss like I always knew you were?”_

_“I’m not a wuss.” She stepped back, bumping into dusty coats hanging behind her. “I don’t want to…”_

_“What? Kiss me?”_

_Cassie didn’t say anything._

_She couldn’t even make out his face in dark. She couldn’t see anything._

_Just the walls caving in._

_She leaned further back into the coats._

_“I knew it. I knew you were a wuss. Can’t even kiss a boy. The coolest boy in school too.”_

_“I’m not a wuss.”_

_“Wuss says ‘what’?”_

_“Stop it!”_

_“Wussy. You can’t do anything!”_

_“Stop it!”_

_“Wussy Cassie! Wussy Cassie! Wussy Cassie!”_

_The name reverberated around her. Thumping closer and closer until she couldn’t breathe. Consuming every inch of her skull._

_She screwed her eyes shut, hands fisted at her sides. “I said—_

“—stop!”

Cassie’s eyes snapped open. She sat up in a flourish, struggling to catch her breath. Sheets were tangled up between her legs, pillow chucked down to the floor.

Eyes adjust to the dark, it took her a few seconds to remember where she was at.

In her room. At night. She’d been sleeping.

It had all been a dream. A horrible dream of a terrible memory. One she’d prefer to forget.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Cassie flopped back down on her bed.

She wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep any time soon, at least not while her mind still lingered on old bullies and embarrassing situations.

“Argh! I hate my life,” she groaned into her pillow, frustrated.

“ _Go to sleep_!” came a muffled shout from further in the apartment.

“You go to sleep!” Cassie shouted back to her dad. An intelligible, grumbled response was shot back before falling silent.

Smothering her face into her pillow, Cassie counted sheep until the morning sun rose.

* * *

“Oh sweetie you don’t have to hang out with me,” Shirley told Cassie as they left the campus coffee stand, each with a steaming cup of joe in their hands. “You should go hang out with some kids your own age.”

“Trust me, kids my own age are raging idiots,” Cassie assured her, recalling her run in with ghosts of middle school past earlier that week. She smiled at Shirley. “You are much more preferable company.”

Apparently that was the right thing to say, Shirley smiling. Cassie had a feeling it was the first time all day Shirley felt relaxed.

The previous day had not been the best for anyone. Possibly the worst in their study group’s history.

A pants-ing incident in the study room (curtesy of Pierce—it’s always Pierce wasn’t it?) led to a sharp divide in the group, Shirley kicking Pierce out of the group. And while Cassie agreed with the woman’s judgement—no one should get pantsed, let alone an adult woman who had dignity, such as Shirley—she felt the pains of division in the group. Whether they liked it or not, Pierce had become their friend, flaws and all. And when a friend left, even under less than stellar circumstances, their absence was felt.

Not that Cassie would say she missed Pierce in his one day absence from the group. After all he constantly claimed she wasn’t Jeff’s biological daughter, claiming Latina women were ‘looser’. Neither Jeff nor Cassie found the remark amusing in the slightest. It was simply another tally in the grievances the group had on Pierce.

“You are too kind sometimes,” Shirley compliment, “don’t know where you get it from. Perhaps the grace of God.”

“Perhaps,” Cassie agreed, knowing better than to argue with Shirley. “But Shirley I really do like hanging out with you. If anyone is like an Aunt to me, it’s you not Britta,” she added with a chuckle.

And apparently that was the _wrong_ thing to say. Shirley’s smile vanished, a grumpy pout replacing her brief cheery disposition.

“Oh I knew it! You are just like the rest of them!” Shirley huffed, making a right on their path, leaving Cassie in her lonesome.

“What just happened?” Cassie blinked at where Shirley once stood. She had been having a perfectly pleasant conversation with her friend, and she just up and left her in a huff.

Something must have been bothering Shirley beyond the Pierce pantsing her situation. Cassie just wasn’t sure what. Part of her wanted to ask when the opportunity arose, but she felt asking Shirley about her reaction would be impolite. She had a level of respect for the woman, she didn’t know exactly where the lines of their friendship stood.

Shaking off the strange sent of guilt she felt at Shirley’s departure, Cassie carried on her path to her _Twilight_ class. As she passed by the parking lot, she stopped, spotting her dad and Britta sitting on bench. With a quick check of her watch—she still had plenty of time—she changed her direction.

The two glared out towards the rotation of cars pulling up to the curb, both their jaws and eyes set in determination.

Her dad barely uttered a ‘hello’ before taking Cassie’s coffee and claiming it as his own. “You already had morning coffee,” he argued upon seeing her annoyance.

“That’s a fun piece of jewelry.” Cassie remarked, referring to the massive binoculars hanging from Britta’s neck.

“Ha, ha,” Britta deadpanned, sparing a small glance her way. “We are on a mission, Cas.”

“A mission?” she uttered, looking out to the parking lot. Not much as happening besides the car wash and the heard of afternoon class students dragging their feet to campus.

“Remember those dweebs we told you about?” Her dad asked, a sinister look in his eyes.

“Yes.”

Oh she remembered them, her father recounting his own interactions with the ‘obnoxious high schoolers’ to her the day before. He’d been red in the face, experiencing a brief flash of existential panic as he regurgitated the haunting question of _‘Can you tell us everything you did in your life to end up here so we don’t make the same mistakes?’_

She listened and nodded at all the appropriate moments, like the good daughter she was, and kept her mouth shut as he continued to rant about these high schoolers who got under his skin. Over the short instances he recounted from the day before, Cassie was able to put two and two together.

These high schoolers taunting her father had to be Mark, Kelly, and Scott.

Of course her father remained ignorant to the fact she knew these high schoolers well, however an intentional decision on Cassie’s part. She didn’t need her dad fighting her battles or making the situation worse than it already happened to be for both of them.

She just needed this to pass and it would. The three would grow tire of the taunting and move on to something more interesting.

“Well, we’re going to ambush them.”

“ _What_?” Cassie’s head snapped back to her dad. “What do you mean ‘ambush’ them?”

“Crush their souls and give them a piece of their own medicine,” he answered, taking a long sip of her coffee.

Except his face scrunched as he swallowed, gagging a second later. “What do you put in this?”

“Nothing,” Cassie shrugged, not understand what was wrong with her coffee, “I take it black.”

Jeff shoved the to-go cup back to Cassie. “Gross.”

“Ditto.” Britta nose wrinkling from behind her binoculars. “Oh, here comes stinky turd face!” She slapped Jeff’s chest, then leaned over to slap Cassie’s arm for good measure.

Both Wingers looked out to the curb, Mark and his mother emerging from the car, followed by Kelly and Scott. His mother seemed to arguing and hurrying the kids along. Hurrying them along towards the school, where Cassie and her father and Britta all sat.

Cassie wanted to run.

“Remember we don’t stop until he cries.”

She wanted to run in the opposite direction, but her feet were planted, and not moving despite her desperate thoughts to do otherwise. Instead she found herself slowly creeping to stand behind her dad, hoping to be out of Mark’s sight.

“Check out Franken-Mom.”

“We can use that!” Britta dropped her binoculars, excited. “No wedding ring. He’s a child of divorce. We can make fun of him for coming from a broken home.” As though remembering the company she was with—two products of ‘broken homes’—she winced. “No offense. Being from a broken home means _nothing—”_

“Shut up, he’s coming!” Jeff hissed, shooting up from his seat. Britta mirrored him, both taking a smug stance. He sent his daughter a smug smile. “Get ready to see your dad take down some little turds.”

Oh no, this wasn’t going to be good. Not at all. “I’d rather not—”

“Where are you going,” Britta yanked Cassie over to her side, catching her before she slipped away, “you need to watch the show. We are going to break his little teenage boy’s ego! This is a win for feminism!”

“That’s not a good way to put it.” Cassie muttered, unable to look away from the impending trainwreck. With fragile egos like her father’s and Britta’s as well as the bombastic attitudes of Mark and his gang, this wasn’t going to look pretty.

“Hey Clearasil,” Jeff shouted once Mark was with in distance, “what time is your mommy picking you up? After she’s done filming the _Real Housewives of Greendale County_?”

“ _After she’s done filming the Real Housewives of Greendale county_ ,” Mark mocked back with out missing a beat. “Duh!”

“Okay, clever retort,” Jeff muttered, annoyed by deep drawled out gibberish coming from the teen. Britta faired no better, her frown deepening the longer Mark

“ _Clever retort_ ,” Mark began to echoed back in the same tone, however his gaze landed on Cassie, jaw dropping in evil delight. “Wait a minute! Hold up,” he nudged his two friends, “it’s Wussy Cassie!” The three laughed ignoring the puzzled and slowly raging faces of Jeff and Britta. “Is Wussy Cassie friends with old Schmitties?”

“Wussy friends with Schmitties!” Kelly and Scott answered in their blubbering, mocking way.

Knowing it best to let it be, Cassie kept her mouth shut and chewed hard

“Whoa,” Jeff held his hand out, hoping to bring some of the gibberish to a halt, “ _don’t_ talk to her that way.”

“Awe, you trying to defend Wussy?” Mark shot back, smug.

“No, I am telling you to not talk to my daughter that way,” Jeff told him, a sharp edge to his tone. “That is what I am doing.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the teenager waved for everything to stop, “are you telling me…Schmitty is Wussy’s _dad_?”

“Cut it out,” Jeff ordered, arms crossed over his chest.

“ _Cut it out_ ,” the three blabbered back.

“I’m serious.”

“ _I’m serious_.” Laughter erupted from the three, while Cassie, Jeff, and Britta glared at them.

“Shut up,” Jeff tried again, getting more flustered by the minute.

“Just stop talking,” Cassie hissed to him, bypassing the group. “Leave us alone, dipshit,” she spat at the three teenagers.

“ _Stop talking! Leave us alone!”_ Mark called after her, he and his goons following Cassie like annoying little crows her. “Wussy Cassie running away! She running away!”

Jeff and Britta hurried to catch up with Cassie, each flanking one side of her. “Want to tell me what the hell is going on, Cassandra?” he dad pressed, shooting scathing looks to the teenagers.

Luckily the three broke off to the left, blowing raspberries at Jeff as they walked in the opposite direction to their class.

“Nothing—”

“That was _not_ nothing,” Britta ground out. When Cassie didn’t answer, she stepped in her path, Jeff joining her. “Cassie, seriously, what was that? Why were they calling you Wussy—”

“Don’t say it,” Cassie gritted out, eyes shut. “Please don’t say it.”

“Then tell us why,” her dad demanded. “Why were they bullying you—”

Cassie huffed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid and it was from a long time ago.”

“It’s not stupid.” Britta crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at Cassie in concern. “It’s one thing for them to call Jeff and I Schmitties. We’re adults. We can handle some obnoxious lame-os.”

Cassie’s eyebrows shot up; everything she had heard and seen the last two days told her the exact opposite, but she wasn’t about to ruin Britta’s speech.

“But it is an entirely different thing when they are calling _you_ names,” Britta told her. “No one gets to call you names!”

“No one,” Jeff added, eyebrows furrowed. He looked lost, a little displaced in the moment. As though he didn’t know what to do in this situation. Not all that surprising; her dad floundered when it came to her social life and school age problems.

Cassie distinctly recalled an instance when she’d been pushed off the monkey bars at the park. The other kids laughed at her and she went running off to find her dad. When she explained what had happened, her dad simply held her and patted her head without saying much except for the late, unsure, advice to push back.

It wasn’t until she was older did Cassie realize maybe her dad was ill-equipped when it came to bullies. Not that he’d ever tell admit to such a thing.

“How do you even know them?” Jeff asked, confused on the connection.

“We went to middle school together,” Cassie explained begrudgingly. “They’ve been like that forever,” she added with a listless shrug. “I just try to ignore it.”

“No!” Britta snapped, stomping her foot. “We will _not_ ignore it. We are going to fight back. This shit just got personal!”

“And it wasn’t before?” Jeff deadpanned.

“It got personal-personal,” Britta rephrased. “No one messes with my niece!” Turning on her heel, Britta marched ahead of the two towards the library.

“You’re not my Aunt!” Cassie shouted after her, she and Jeff following her lead a much slower pace.

“Yes I am!” Britta cried out, throwing her fist in the air. “Aunt Britta for the win!”

Cassie opened her mouth to argue, only for her dad to shake his head. “Let her have this one. She needs it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I will admit this is not my favorite chapter. I literally wrote other chapters to avoid writing this one. I honestly am not the biggest fan of Jeff and Britta's storyline in this episode, but I didn't want to 'interlude' this chapter. So I guess this is my way of trying to have my way with it? I thought it would be interesting to see Cassie confronted with some childhood bullies, to remind us she is still young and maybe not as confident as she likes to present herself all the time, but most importantly to see how Jeff handles the situation. Which as far as we can see, isn't great so far.
> 
> On the plus side we got a mini update on how Annie is handling certain information!
> 
> Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> So this is more like an introduction to lay down the foundation. We'll learn more as we go!
> 
> Also, I get it-- OCs aren't for everyone, so no worries if you don't dig it!
> 
> And if you are a shipper and wondering about the romance between certain characters, that is still a ways away (if I decided to continue this fic); I simply tagged as a forewarning as to where the fic will possibly go!
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


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